


Leo Inter Serpentes: First Year

by Aeternum



Series: Leo Inter Serpentes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Good Slytherins, Mentor Snape, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeternum/pseuds/Aeternum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the original series, but this time, our hero wears green and silver, not red and gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Harry Makes His First Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Leo Inter Serpentes : Première Année](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386673) by [bridgess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bridgess/pseuds/bridgess)
  * Translation into Italiano available: [Leo Inter Serpentes: Primo Anno](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036983) by [acatinahat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatinahat/pseuds/acatinahat)
  * Translation into Español available: [Leo Inter Serpentes:primer año](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136980) by [Sarificacion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarificacion/pseuds/Sarificacion)



> More translations of this series can be found off-site:
> 
> personal_jesus is posting a Russian translation on ficbook: [Leo Inter Serpentes](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3891327)
> 
> kousuke_kun is posting a Vietnamese translation on wordpress: [Leo Inter Serpentes: Năm thứ nhất](https://thedaydreamingstation.wordpress.com/2017/02/22/harry-potter-series-leo-inter-serpentes-first-year/)
> 
> germanoutlander has completed a German translation of First Year on ff.net: [Leo Inter Serpentes: Erstes Jahr](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11818379/1/Leo-Inter-Serpentes-Erstes-Jahr)
> 
> And now there's some artwork by more talented people!
> 
> Silvana's artwork can be found on instagram here: [canislupus133](https://www.instagram.com/p/BIBtvDVACxb/?taken-by=canislupus133)
> 
> Hitori Maron's artwork can be found on tumblr: [hitori maron](http://hitorimaron.tumblr.com/tagged/harry-potter/)
> 
> Stem Cell's artwork can be found on tumblr: [Stem Cell](http://stem-cell.tumblr.com/tagged/leo-inter-serpentes)
> 
> drarrysinful's artwork can be found on tumblr: [drarrysinful](http://drarrysinful.tumblr.com/post/151755826359/now-that-part-6-of-leo-inter-serpentes-is-finally)
> 
> Thank you so much to Cynical Turkey for all your awesome beta work, and for letting me ask you random but urgent questions at all hours of the night. You're my own little boisterous puppy and I love you for it. And to thirtywhacks, who has spent so much time dissecting the intricate details of the wizarding world with me. I don't know anyone else who would spend so long debating just how the classes at Hogwarts get scheduled. Our fandom merge is a wondrous thing.

Harry entered Madam Malkin's alone, looking around at all the old-fashioned clothes hanging on the walls. At the back of the store, a pale-faced blonde boy was getting fitted for some black robes. Harry tried not to stare, but he was the first wizard his own age that he'd seen, and he was curious. Would he be able to tell that Harry was clueless about everything he'd come across today? 

His reverie was broken by the arrival of Madam Malkin herself, as she ushered him over to stand next to the blonde boy. She threw a black robe over his head and knelt down to start pinning it. Harry took the chance to give a small smile to the boy.

“So you're off to Hogwarts too?” Harry asked him shyly.

“Yes, my parents are off getting some of my other supplies,” he replied, before sticking out his hand. “I'm Draco.”

“Harry,” he replied as he shook Draco's hand nervously. Long years at the same school as Dudley had made Harry wary of anyone offering friendship, as it never ended well. 

“So do you know which house you'll be in? Well, which one you'd like to be in?” Draco asked him. 

Harry looked at him blankly. “House?”

“School house!” Draco exclaimed. At Harry's blank look, he continued. “You know: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?”

Harry shook his head helplessly. “I've no idea. I only learned I was a wizard yesterday, to be honest. I've been raised by Muggles most of my life.”

Draco gave him an odd look. “Raised by Muggles? Are your parents magical?”

“They were – they're dead, and I've been raised by Muggle relatives since then,” Harry explained awkwardly. 

“Really? How did you get here then? All by yourself?” Draco demanded. 

“No, Hagrid brought me. He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, he's been helping me get into my Gringotts vault and buy all my school supplies.” 

“Hagrid? I've heard of him from my parents. Shouldn't they have sent a teacher to help you? I've heard that's what they do with Mud- ah, Muggle-borns.” Draco looked uncomfortable, to Harry's confusion. 

“No idea. But he's been helpful so far, and look,” Harry pointed out the window. “He's brought me ice cream!”

Draco turned to look at Hagrid waving cheerfully from the street. “Huh. That looks rather good, actually, I think I'll get Mother to buy me one.”

“That's you done, dear,” Madam Malkin said to Harry before he could reply. He thanked her and turned back to Draco. “Well, I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then,” he said, smiling at him.

“I guess you will,” Draco smiled back. With that, Harry went to pay and join Hagrid outside. 

********

  
Harry's last month with the Dursleys was the happiest he could remember. He was finally escaping them, if only for the school year, and they were so terrified of him and his wand that he was left alone for once. With no chores to do, Harry devoted himself to reading through his schoolbooks; after feeling so clueless in his conversation with Draco, Harry was determined that he would at least have a thorough understanding of his school subjects by the time he got there.

Already, Harry had a feeling he knew which ones would be his favourite subjects: Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The only thing he found interesting in his History of Magic book was finding a name for Hedwig, his snowy owl, and while he enjoyed the other text books, they didn't really speak to him. But Defence... Having been bullied and belittled his entire life, Harry liked the idea of being able to stand up to the evil things he was reading about. As for Potions, Harry had been cooking for the Dursleys ever since he was tall enough to reach the stove. But that was always boring, bland food: the Dursleys preferred plain old English food, and spaghetti bolognese was as exciting as they got. Harry was looking forward to making potions that could cure colds or make someone's hair grow. After years of cooking meat and three veg, magical potions sounded fantastic. 

All of this was going through Harry's head as he watched the Dursleys' drive away from King's Cross Station. They'd only taken him that far because they were taking Dudley to a hospital to get his pig's tail removed. Chuckling at the memory of Hagrid's little bit of revenge, Harry got a trolley for his trunk and Hedwig's cage and set off for his train.

Looking down at the ticket, Harry felt a small niggle of confusion. Platform 9 ¾? That couldn't be right. Shrugging, he set off for platform 9, figuring he must have misread something. When he got there, however, he was still confused. Platform 9 was next to platform 10, as he'd expected, and there weren't any signs mentioning Hogwarts. 

Harry wheeled his trolley to a barrier and started rummaging through his pockets for his Hogwarts letter, figuring that there might be instructions in there. He scanned it quickly, but found nothing. Frustrated, he looked up to look at Hedwig, and his jaw dropped.

His trolley was disappearing. 

Apparently train station trolleys were as obedient as supermarket ones, he thought, as he watched it slowly roll through the barrier between platforms. Tentatively, he pressed his hand against the bricks, and gasped as it sank through. It was as if the barrier wasn't even there! Looking around, Harry gathered his courage, gripped the trolley handles, and pushed.

He gasped again as he emerged on what was obviously platform 9 ¾. A scarlet steam train was blowing smoke over the platform, which was full of people in robes, children running around, and owls in cages. Grinning at Hedwig, Harry set off down the platform, looking for an empty compartment. Not far along, he found one that only had two people in it. Two small, nervous-looking children his own age. They must be first years too, and they looked friendly.

“Hello, do you mind if I join you?” he asked them. When they shook their heads, he hoisted Hedwig and his luggage in and sat down. “Hi, I'm Harry.”

The plump boy smiled shyly. “Hi, Harry, I'm Neville. This is my toad, Trevor.” Neville was holding an ugly toad in his hands, and the toad didn't look happy about it. Hedwig stared at him with her large amber eyes. 

“And I'm Hermione,” said the bushy-haired girl next to him. “Neville, I think you better put that toad away. Harry's owl is looking at him like he's dinner.”

“Hedwig can't get out of her cage,” Harry said to Neville. “Trevor's safe.” Neville smiled nervously at him, glanced at Hedwig, and shut Trevor away in a small wicker cage. 

“Better safe than sorry,” said Hermione smugly. “So, Harry, I take it you're a first year, too?” At his nod, she continued. “So are Neville and I. Isn't it exciting? I was ever so surprised when I found out I was a witch, I hope-”

At that moment, the compartment door burst open, and Draco darted inside, slamming it behind him and pulling down the compartment blinds. He turned around, saw Harry and smiled.

“So sorry to interrupt like this,” he drawled, taking a seat next to Harry. “But Crabbe and Goyle are driving me insane at the moment and I can't stand the thought of being stuck with them for the entire trip.”

“That's okay, it's nice to see someone I know. This is Hermione and Neville, and this is Draco.” Harry smiled as the others greeted each other. He'd never been in a position to introduce someone before, it was almost like having friends. “Who are Crabbe and Goyle?”

Draco made a face as he replied. “Oh, their fathers are friends with mine. I've known them for years, but honestly, they're two of the dumbest people I've ever met. I've decided that now I'm off to Hogwarts, I'm going to make friends with people who are capable of understanding words with more than two syllables.” He leant back and smirked at them all. 

Eager to break the slightly stunned silence, Harry racked his brains for something to say. “So, uh, do you know house you'll be in?”

“Well, Slytherin, I hope, all my family's been in Slytherin. But I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. As long as it's not Hufflepuff. I think I'd get back on the train if I got sorted into Hufflepuff.” Draco shuddered slightly. At their blank looks, he continued. “Sorry, I know Harry doesn't know anything about the houses. What about you two?”

Neville gulped before he replied. “My gran wants me to be a Gryffindor like my parents, I think, but I'll probably be in Hufflepuff.”

Hermione jumped in before Draco could reply. “Do you know how we get sorted?” she asked him.

“Yes, my mother told me. We have to put on the Sorting Hat, which will read our minds and see which house will suit us the best. I take it you're a Muggle-born, then?” Draco's look wasn't what Harry would call friendly.

“Oh, yes, I was just saying before you came in that I was so surprised to learn I was a witch! I hope not growing up in the magical world won't put me at a disadvantage at Hogwarts?” She looked at Draco expectantly.

Harry noticed that Draco seemed to hesitate a moment before replying. “No, academically we all start out pretty much the same.”

“Oh, I'm so glad to hear that! Of course, I've read all my schoolbooks already, and I've been itching to try out some simple spells. In fact-” she leant forward, snatched Harry's glasses up and tapped them with her wand. “ _Occulus reparo!_ ”

Hermione preened as Harry and Neville looked at her in awe, and even Draco looked mildly impressed. She leaned forward to put them back on Harry's face and froze. “What's that on your forehead?” 

Harry's hand flew to his scar. “Oh, this is-”

“You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you!” Hermione exclaimed. Neville gaped at him, but Draco looked hurt.

“Why didn't you say who you were when we met in Diagon Alley?” he demanded angrily.

“I did! We shook hands and everything!” Harry protested.

“Yes, but you never said you were Harry _Potter_!” Draco huffed as Hermione and Neville watched on. 

“Yeah, and this is why!” Harry retorted. “The three of you are staring at me like I'm a freak, you think I'd want that? Look, Hermione, you said you were surprised when you found out you were a witch? How about finding out you're not only magical, but famous, too? I'm not used to _any_ of this. I don't even remember why I'm famous. So can you all please stop looking at me like that, and go back to normal?”

The others nodded and shifted in their seats. The group seemed to be settling into an awkward silence when they were interrupted by the door opening. 

“Anything off the food trolley, dears?” A plump witch asked.

The next few minutes were taken up with the four of them choosing what they wanted. Overcome by the choices, and happy to have money for the first time, Harry ordered one of everything. At the others' incredulous looks, he explained, “I uh, I never got many treats at home. And these are all so great!” Hermione nodded her agreement, but Draco and Neville looked nonplussed. 

“They're not that great,” said Draco, munching a Chocolate Frog. “Look, they don't even have the new releases on the Chocolate Frog cards yet. Another Dumbledore.” He threw the card onto the seat between he and Harry. Harry picked up the card, curious, and read the description on the back. 

“Well, our Headmaster seems pretty cool, at least,” Harry said. “I wonder what the rest of the teachers will be like. Do you know?” He turned to Draco. 

The rest of the trip went pleasantly, with no more awkwardness. Harry and Hermione pestered Draco and Neville with questions about Hogwarts. Draco was in his element explaining things to them, and Neville piped up occasionally with his own information. By the time they'd changed into their school robes, Harry was feeling like he was ready for his new school.

When the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade, Harry waved at Hagrid as he ushered all the first years towards the boats that would take them to Hogwarts. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Neville shared a boat, but conversation was limited as they watched the castle slowly get bigger. They stayed together as they climbed the stairs, with Draco steadfastly ignoring the calls of two hulking boys Harry assumed to be the hapless Crabbe and Goyle. 

At the front entrance, Hagrid handed them over to the stern-looking Professor McGonagall. She gave them a quick explanation of the school houses and the Sorting Ceremony, before leaving them for a few minutes. 

Harry heard some of the conversations around him and smiled as he turned to Draco. “I'm glad you sat with us on the train. If you hadn't told us what the Sorting Ceremony was, I might be freaking out like these guys are. Did you hear the boy talking about wrestling a troll?” he whispered. 

Draco sniggered in response. “The moral of the story, Harry, is to always listen to me, because I'm always right.”

“Git.”

“Prat.”

Harry's response was drowned out by the screams of several students. Startled, Harry looked around to see several ghosts floating over the top of the crowd. “You never told me there were ghosts here!”

“Scared, Harry?”

“No! Just... Surprised.”

“Well, I couldn't have you coming here knowing everything, could I?” Draco asked. “If I did that, you might get bored of me and wander off.”

Harry was just trying to figure out a non-pathetic way to tell Draco that no, he didn't think he'd ever get bored of him, when McGonagall returned to usher them into the Great Hall. Harry couldn't help his jaw dropping open as he took in the massive room. There were hundreds of students already sitting at four long tables, and all of them stared at the first years as they were marched up to the front of the room. The entire room was lit by the candles floating above the tables, just under the ceiling that looked like the night sky. 

Hermione saw him looking. “It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in _Hogwarts, a History_.”

The first years huddled together nervously as McGonagall shepherded them to the space at the front of the room. Here the house tables stopped just short of a raised platform on which the staff table sat. In front of this, McGonagall placed a stool and an old, patched hat. The entire hall fell silent as the Sorting Hat opened its brim and sang about the four houses. When it was done, McGonagall started calling the first years up alphabetically. One by one, those called walked to the stool and had the hat placed on their heads. 

“Granger, Hermione!” Harry patted her on her back as she straightened up and marched to the stool. By this time, Harry had noticed that some people barely sat down before being sorted, while others took longer. Hermione was on the stool for nearly five minutes before it bellowed “GRYFFINDOR!” She flashed a relieved smile at Harry as she made her way to the Gryffindor table. Clapping loudly, Harry turned to Draco and Neville. Draco smiled back complacently, but Neville just looked at him wide-eyed. When it was his turn to be sorted, Neville turned to Harry in mute appeal.

“You'll be fine,” he said, patting Neville on the back. He stumbled to the stool, where he took nearly as long as Hermione had. Finally, the hat placed him in Gryffindor as well, and he took his place next to Hermione.

When Draco was called, he turned to Harry. “See you on the other side,” he said, before going up to the stool. He'd barely had the hat placed on his head before it was shouting out “SLYTHERIN!” Draco smiled smugly at Harry before sauntering over to the Slytherin table. Harry noticed he carefully sat down next to the first year girls so as to avoid Crabbe and Goyle, who had also been sorted into Slytherin. 

Alone with strangers now, Harry waited in nervous anticipation for his name to be called. When it was, he quickly made his way up to the hat, amid a sea of whispers of “Harry Potter!”. To avoid looking at the sea of students, many of whom were now standing up for a better look, Harry glanced at the staff table. The last thing he saw before the hat fell over his eyes was the unsmiling face of a black-haired professor staring at him. 

With the hat over his eyes, Harry waited expectantly. The hat started talking in his ear.

“Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?”

Slytherin or Gryffindor, Slytherin or Gryffindor, Harry thought. 

“Well, yes, that is where I was going with this... You'd do well in either house, it's true. Hmm. Brave as you are, I do think you'd thrive in Slytherin...” Harry was startled when the hat chuckled to itself. “Yes, rare as _that_ is, you'd better be a snake in that case... SLYTHERIN!”

Harry blinked at the light as the hat was pulled off his head, before he made his way to the Slytherin table. Trying his best to ignore the students craning their heads at him, he slipped onto the bench next to Draco, grinning at him. 

“I knew you'd get in,” Draco said.

“You did? The hat didn't. Seemed it was tossing up between here and Gryffindor,” Harry replied.

Draco just laughed. “Ooh, a big brave lion in Slytherin? This year is going to be fun!” 

Harry laughed at Draco as a tall Black boy slid onto the bench next to Harry. The Sorting was over, and after they'd finished laughing at Dumbledore's odd speech, the first years introduced themselves to each other. Apart from Harry and Draco, there was Blaise Zabini, the last student to be sorted; Theodore Nott, a quiet, skinny boy who seemed content to listen rather than speak; Crabbe and Goyle, who merely grunted that their names were Vince and Greg before digging into the food that had suddenly appeared on the table; Pansy Parkinson, a pug-nosed girl who seemed to fancy herself as the spokesperson of the first year girls; Tracey Davis, a short, East Asian girl with glasses; Daphne Greengrass, a slim white girl who kept smoothing her light-brown hair in the reflection of her goblet; and Millicent Bulstrode, who towered over everyone but Vince and Greg. Draco seemed to already know Pansy, Blaise and Theodore, though he still didn't seem keen to acknowledge Vince or Greg. Harry decided he'd ask him about them later on.

Harry looked around the hall with interest, overcome by the sheer magic of the place. The food in front of him had appeared out of no where, and he tucked in eagerly, happy to have enough to eat for once. Here and there ghosts drifted around, above and through the students; a gaunt ghost in heavy chains had hovered behind Harry for a bit, introducing himself as the Bloody Baron, ghost of Slytherin house. If Harry hadn't already been determined to do well at school, he would have been after hearing the Baron warn them he expected them to retain the House Cup for the seventh year.

Gazing at the other students, Harry waved at Hermione when she waved at him from the Gryffindor table. 

“Did you just wave at a _Gryffindor_?” Pansy demanded. 

“Uh, yeah?” Harry was confused by her reaction, but Draco merely rolled his eyes at her.

“We met them on the train, Pansy, they're... Alright.”

“They're _Gryffindors _.” Pansy said scathingly. “Their entire house is like the mortal enemy of ours!”__

Draco openly laughed at that. “Pansy, do you really believe that? Gryffindors? Sure, they charge in to things that they haven't bothered to understand first, but they're harmless. They're like... Boisterous puppies: any Slytherin worth their salt can make them chase their tails before sending them scurrying off to destroy their own toys.” 

Even Pansy joined in the laughter at that, though Harry felt a pang of guilt as he thought of Hermione and Neville. 

“Draco Malfoy, defender of witless Gryffindors,” drawled Blaise. “I suppose next you'll be telling us that there is a point to Hufflepuffs?”

“Of course there's a point to Hufflepuffs,” Draco replied. “Someone has to come last in the House Cup.”

“What's wrong with Hufflepuffs?” asked Harry as the others laughed again. 

“Didn't you listen to the hat's song?” asked Pansy, giggling. “Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are smart, Slytherins are resourceful, and Hufflepuffs are hard workers? That just means they have to make up for their lack of natural talent.”

Harry laughed along with the others, but tuned out the conversation after that. He didn't like making fun of people he'd never met before, and besides, he didn't know enough about the house stereotypes to offer an opinion of his own. He looked up at the staff table instead, where his eye was caught by the black-haired professor he'd noticed earlier. 

He still wasn't smiling, but rather looking at Harry like he was an unexpected riddle. Dressed all in black, he was an imposing figure, especially when compared to the turban-clad professor next to him. Harry was trying to figure out who he was from Draco's earlier descriptions when all of a sudden, a sudden pain shot through his lightning bolt scar.

“Ow!” He clapped a hand to his forehead as he turned away.

“What's wrong?” Draco asked.

Harry looked around, but none of their classmates had noticed; they were too busy watching a Prefect attempting to teach Vince and Greg how to hold cutlery properly.

“My scar hurt. It's weird, it was when that professor wearing all black looked at me,” he muttered. “Do you know who he is?”

“Of course, that's Snape. You know, Potions Master and-”

“-Head of Slytherin,” Harry interrupted with a sinking feeling. Not only did Snape not seem to like Harry very much, but the pain in his scar had an ominous feeling about it. Surely it didn't bode well for Harry that this man was his Head of House.

Seemingly knowing what Harry was thinking, Draco smiled reassuringly at him. “It's just a coincidence, Harry, don't be an idiot. Honestly, why would Snape hex you?” 

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Harry said, determined not to worry about it. After all, he'd never known his scar was a remnant of a curse before. Maybe this sort of thing was common in the wizarding world.

The rest of the feast passed by quickly, and soon the two Slytherin prefects were introducing themselves to the first years. Gemma Farley was a friendly redhead who played Beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and she encouraged anyone feeling homesick or lost to come to her. Reed Hawthorn, on the other hand, was a stern-looking boy, who didn't smile once as he told them curtly to follow him. As soon as he turned his back, Gemma stuck her tongue out at him, causing Harry to snicker.

Harry started to walk off with the others, when Gemma pulled him beside her quietly, and let the others pull ahead. 

“Hi, Harry. I didn't want to say anything in front of the others, but you grew up in the Muggle world, didn't you?” she smiled down at him.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied.

She gazed at the rest of the Slytherins for a second, before turning her attention back to him. “Well, I know it'll be a bit of a shock for you, coming into the wizarding world. Slytherin's reputation... Well, most of the house is pure-blood, you see. All of the rest of your year is, in any case. So if anyone bullies you for growing up with Muggles, or you have any questions in general, don't hesitate to come ask me. I'm a half-blood, and I know how different this world can be to the Muggle world.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks.”

“Reed's not exactly the best person to go to for that, as he's a pure-blood and a bit of a prat. Professor Snape would also be good to talk to.”

“Professor Snape?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, he's our Head of House. He looks scary – well, he is scary, to be honest – but he's usually got good advice. He's protective of his Slytherins. At least, the ones who don't make explosions in his classroom!” Harry laughed along weakly, but privately he thought he'd much rather go to Gemma for help than Snape. They descended a short staircase, and caught up with the others, who were clustered around a blank piece of wall.

“Finally made it then? Good. Password this week is 'Merlin'.” As Reed said the password, a section of the stone wall transformed into a door and slid open. “The passwords change fortnightly, and are up on the notice board over there. Don't tell anyone from another house, and don't invite anyone from another house in here, got it? Now, girls, follow Gemma to your dormitory. Boys, with me.”

Reed led them across a high-ceilinged room. Tall windows let in a greenish light, which was bolstered by the green lamps scattered across the room. A large fireplace was heating the room, and there were dark leather couches scattered around low tables. There were clusters of desks which were currently unoccupied; most students in the room were still chatting excitedly with their friends. On the walls were ancient looking tapestries, and there were dark cupboards displaying all manner of ornate artefacts. 

From a dark corridor, Reed pushed open a door marked _First Years_ and waited for them all to troop inside. Six four-poster beds with green hangings and green and silver covers were lined up against the side walls, each with a handsome dark-wood bedside table and wardrobe. Silver lamps hung from the ceiling. On the wall opposite the door were two high windows, and looking closer, Harry could see that they looked out into the lake. On each side wall there were two small fireplaces lit with brightly burning fires. 

“All of your things have been delivered here; those of you who have owls, they've been taken to the owlery. Bathroom is down the end of the corridor. You'll get your timetables tomorrow at breakfast. There's no set bedtime, as long as you make sure that you're up in time for breakfast, but no one's allowed out of the dungeons after curfew. I trust you can all manage that.” 

As soon as Reed had shut the door behind him there was a mad scramble to claim a bed. Draco headed straight to one by the windows, and Harry took the one opposite him, with Theo next to Harry and Blaise next to Draco. As Vince and Greg got into a scuffle over one of the remaining beds, Harry flopped down happily onto his. Full from the feast, he took a moment to think back over the events of one of the best days of his life, before a scratching sound caught his attention. Looking over to him, he saw Draco emerging from under his bed clutching a short knife.

“What were you doing under there?” Harry laughed. 

“Carving my name into the base, of course,” Draco replied. “It's a Hogwarts tradition, or at least a Slytherin one. Every student adds their name to the list on the base. I've got the one my father had when he was here. I think I saw my grandfather's name too, but the older names are a bit harder to make out.”

“Can I borrow your knife? That sounds cool,” Harry grinned. Having his name carved into his bed, even if he couldn't see it, would make it feel all the more like something that was his. 

Taking the knife from Draco, he slithered under his bed. After his eyes adjusted, he could see that Draco was right. There were hundreds of names carved into the wood, from the oldest at the head of the bed, to the newer ones ending about three quarters of the way down. Wondering briefly what would happen when the bed was eventually filled, he set to work scratching his name at the end of the list. He noticed that a lot of the other boys had drawn little pictures next to their names; mostly snakes, he saw with a smirk. He debated doing one next to his own, before inspiration struck and he drew a lightning bolt. 

When he crawled out, he handed the knife to Theo. As the rest of the boys took their turns adding their own names, Harry got changed into his pyjamas and got into bed. He put his wand and glasses on his bedside table and closed his bed curtains. 

“Night, Harry.”

“Night, Draco.”


	2. In Which Draco Meets Fang and Harry Discovers Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Snape's speech is lifted straight from the book. I make no apologies, because that speech is awesome.

The whispers started the next day. The other Slytherins in the common room hadn't been too bad, merely looking at him with more interest than a first year would normally excite. It got worse when he left the dungeons and ran into the other students. Trying to ignore the comments he could hear about his scar, Harry was grateful that he shared all his classes with his dorm-mates. Seeing students double-back in the corridors to gawp at him was unsettling enough. He didn't fancy that happening if he was walking by himself. 

It was a relief to get his classes, despite the disappointment he felt in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The rest of the classes were interesting, with the exception of History of Magic. Harry had spent most of that class teaching Draco how to play naughts and crosses. After getting beaten every time, Draco finally swore he'd get revenge when he taught Harry wizarding chess.

Finally, on Friday morning, came the class Harry had been both anticipating and fearing: double Potions with the Gryffindors. He tried to convince himself that Draco was right; Snape had no reason to dislike him. 

He cheered up a bit when Hedwig fluttered down in front of him at breakfast. She'd often visited him at breakfast before, but had never brought him anything. The note she clutched in her beak turned out to be from Hagrid, inviting him to tea that afternoon, and he quickly answered in the affirmative. 

When his classmates got up from the breakfast table to go to class, Harry told Draco he'd catch up with them in the dungeons, and made his way over to the Gryffindor table where he could see Hermione and Neville picking up their bags.

“Walk to the dungeons with you?” Harry greeted them.

“Harry! Of course we'll walk with you. How's your first week been? Aren't the classes _fascinating_?” Hermione beamed at him.

Harry couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm. “Pretty good so far. How about you, Neville?”

Neville gave him a shy smile. “I liked Herbology. I'm not so sure about Transfiguration, though.”

Hermione looked like she was going to say something, but thought better of it, before turning to Harry. “So, Potions is taught by Professor Snape. He's your Head of House, isn't he? What's he like?”

“Well, I haven't met him yet, so I don't know,” Harry replied uncomfortably. “But I saw him looking at me during the start of term feast, and he didn't seem to like me very much.”

“Why ever not? Everyone's been saying that he always favours the Slytherins,” replied Hermione. 

“Dunno, just a feeling I got. Draco said I was being an idiot,” said Harry. 

“Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but I'm sure you were just imagining things,” said Hermione as they entered the classroom. They made their way to where Draco was sitting in the front row. Hermione and Neville had just managed quick helloes with Draco, before the classroom door slammed shut and Snape swept into the room. Like Professor Flitwick in the Charms lesson, Snape started out by taking the roll. Unlike Flitwick, he didn't fall off his chair when he got to Harry's name. 

“Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_.” Harry stared back at him until he went back to calling the roll. Beside him, he could feel Draco shifting uncomfortably. 

Snape finished calling the roll and looked at the class as he began to talk in a quiet voice. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” Harry felt a small thrill go through him. He had enjoyed reading his Potions textbook, but Snape made the subject sound even better. He jerked upright as Snape rounded on him. 

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry wracked his brains, trying to remember what he'd read about asphodels in his textbook as Hermione's hand shot into the air next to him. Asphodels were the symbol of a goddess of the Greek afterlife... “Er, the Draught of the Undead?”

Draco groaned quietly as Snape blinked at Harry before continuing. “It is a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of _Living Death_. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told to find me a bezoar?”

This one was easy, Harry thought. “In the stomach of a goat, sir.”

“Yes. It will save you from most, though not all, poisons. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” 

“Aren't they the same thing, sir?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Quite. They also go by the name of aconite.” Snape looked at Harry calculatingly before raising his gaze to the rest of the room. “Well? Why aren't you all copying that down? And two points to Slytherin, for bothering to open a book before you came here, Potter.”

The rest of the class passed pleasantly for Harry, despite a red-haired Gryffindor calling him a suck up while his friends laughed. Still glowing with happiness as gaining some points for Slytherin, he was paired with Draco for the lesson. Their potion for curing boils turned out perfectly, and was the only one in the class that Snape didn't criticise. Still, he'd couldn't shake the feeling that Snape didn't like him, and said as much to Draco as they left for lunch. 

“Oh come off it, Potter! Has he said anything? No! He even gave you points,” Draco cried.

“He didn't look too happy about it,” Harry grumbled.

“Of course not, Snape never looks happy,” laughed Draco. 

“Yes, but-”

“Merlin, you're annoying! What time are we visiting Hagrid?” 

“We?”

“Yes, _we_. You're clearly too paranoid and stubborn to be left alone with anyone before you start thinking they're out to get you.”

“Git.”  


********

  
When Harry knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut they heard the barking of a large dog, then Hagrid shouting “ _Back_ , Fang – _back_.” He opened the door a crack. “Hang on. _Back_ , Fang.” He opened the door further as he hung onto the collar of a huge black boarhound. Draco had a slight sneer on his face as he entered, but didn't say anything.

“Make yerselves at home,” Hagrid said. He let go of Fang, who bounded straight to Draco and started drooling on his robes. 

“This is Draco,” Harry told Hagrid, trying not to laugh at Draco's face when he noticed the dog drool now covering his formerly pristine clothes. 

Hagrid glanced up from his teapot to look at Draco. “Malfoy, eh? I remember your father when he was a student, yeh look just like him. Can't say I ever thought ta see a Malfoy in me house.”

“I'm not my father,” Draco said quietly, giving up trying to push Fang off of him. He started to resignedly pat his head. 

“Nah, don't 'spect you are,” Hagrid said levelly as he served them tea and rock cakes. 

The cakes nearly broke their teeth, but Harry pretended to be enjoying his as he and Draco told Hagrid about their first week at Hogwarts. Draco surreptitiously fed his cakes to Fang whenever Hagrid wasn't looking. He groaned loudly when Harry started in on his theory about Snape. Hagrid just laughed and said that Snape hardly ever liked any students.

“But he seemed to really _hate_ me.”

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid, pouring them all some more tea and not looking at Harry. “Why should he?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That's what I've been saying. Do you see what I put up with?”

While Hagrid agreed with Draco, Harry picked up a piece of paper from the table. It was an article cut out of the _Daily Prophet_ , detailing a break in at Gringotts. He remembered Hagrid telling him someone would have to be mad to try to break into Gringotts. 

“Hagrid! This Gringotts break in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!” Harry exclaimed. 

Hagrid again avoided his eyes, passing around yet more rock cakes. Harry skimmed through the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that day_. Harry remembered the vault that Hagrid had taken the package from, and the way he'd refused to answer Harry's questions about it. Could the article be talking about that vault? Had Hagrid spirited some sort of treasure away from the thieves just in time? 

As they made their way back to the castle, Draco complained loudly about the state of his robes. Harry made sympathetic noises, but he wasn't really listening. He was too busy thinking about what had just happened at Hagrid's. Hagrid had emptied a vault, taking a mysterious package the same day thieves tried to steal something from Gringotts. And he hadn't looked at Harry when he assured him that Snape didn't hate him.

In his short time in the wizarding world, Harry had come to see that things like ghosts and goblins were real. But he still didn't believe in coincidence.  


********

  
That night, there was a piece of parchment posted to the Slytherin notice board that caused a stir amongst the first years.

“Flying lessons!” Harry said. 

Draco had had to drag him away from the notice board, and they were now sitting by the fire playing wizarding chess. Draco was determined that Harry would learn the rules, and quickly. Draco had explained that he and his mother had weekly games, and he was missing that now he was at Hogwarts. Blaise and Theo had no interest in the game, so it had fallen to Harry to learn. He was having a hard time concentrating at the moment. 

“You've said that. Multiple times,” drawled Draco. “Concentrate!”

“But... Flying lessons! Draco, flying lessons!” Harry moved his bishop forward and looked up with excitement. 

Draco sighed and put Harry's bishop back where it came from. “These go diagonally, Potter, _diagonally_.” 

“Sorry. It's just-”

“Flying lessons, yes, I know.” Draco looked around the room and leaned forward. “Listen, you're driving me crazy at the moment-”

“I'm sorry, it's just, well, I'm a little nervous about this,” Harry admitted softly.

“ _I know_. Which is why we're going flying tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Harry stared at him.

“Tomorrow. We'll borrow some of the school brooms and go flying. That way, I can show you a few things before the lesson, and you'll finally shut up about them.” Draco sat back with a self-satisfied smirk.

Harry grinned at him. “Draco, you're brilliant!”

“I know.”  


********

  
The next day Harry and Draco sat in the common room with their classmates. Harry was answering Theo and Tracey's questions on the Muggle world, and Draco was writing a letter to his mother. Half an hour before dinner, Draco stood up and announced he needed to go to the library, and Harry was coming with him. Making a show of grumbling over Draco's bossiness, Harry followed him out of the dungeons, but they didn't head to the library. Instead, they went to the Entrance Hall, where Draco pretended to be pointing out the hour glasses with house gems to Harry while they waited for a few students to leave. Once the coast was clear, they walked quickly to the front door and snuck out.

The grounds outside were quiet except for the far off figure of Hagrid chopping wood near his hut. It was more than an hour to sunset, but already the shadows were starting to lengthen, and they stopped worrying that someone would see them from the castle. They grinned at each other and set off quickly for the Quidditch pitch.

The Quidditch pitch was deserted when they got there, as none of the house teams had started training this early in the term. They made their way to the storage cupboard, and found it locked.

“What do we do now?” Harry asked. “I can't pick a lock, can you?”

“Pick a lock? Is that some Muggle thing? Whatever, just get out of the way,” Draco had a quick look around them before pointing his wand at the lock. “ _Alohomora_!” 

The door swung open, and Harry turned to stare at Draco. “Where did you learn that?”

“It's in our Charms book, you idiot. After I got my wand last month, I decided to see what Father keeps in some of his locked cabinets.”

“And?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just some old heirlooms, some books, that sort of thing. Valuable, of course, but I didn't have time to see if anything really interesting was in there.” Draco made his way to the broom racks at the end of the room while Harry kept a lookout.

“Wait, I thought we weren't allowed to do magic outside of school. Didn't you get in trouble?”

“You only get in trouble if you get caught,” Draco said, inspecting the brooms “The Trace – that's the charm that alerts the Ministry to underage magic – can't tell who cast the spell. So someone like you, the sole wizard in a Muggle house, would almost certainly get caught. Whereas someone like me, in a household with adults constantly using magic, would get away with it, as the Ministry relies on their parents to supervise.”

“So you mean that kids in the wizarding world can use magic, and those in the Muggle world can't? That's so unfair!”

“I suppose so. Can't say I'd ever given it much thought. Here,” Draco thrust a broom into Harry's hands. “This one should suit you. Come on.”

They made their way onto the Quidditch pitch, which was now entirely bathed in shadow. Draco stopped and turned to face Harry.

“Flying's easy once you get the hang of it. Just point the handle in the direction you want to go, pull back to brake; it's all fairly intuitive. Just watch me, and then kick off to get up.” Draco kicked lightly off the ground, and rose slowly into the air, coming to a hover a few metres above Harry.

Harry gripped his handle tightly, took a breath, and pushed off. All at once, he rose into the air, coming to a stop across from Draco. A grin spread across his face He'd done it! He couldn't remember now why he'd been so worried, this was the easiest thing he'd done all week.

“Calm down, you prat, you haven't done anything a first year Hufflepuff couldn't,” Draco laughed.

“Not yet, I haven't,” Harry called as he took off. He could hear Draco yelling from below him. This was wonderful! He could hear his robes flapping behind him, and the air was a lot colder once he was flying through it, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was flying. He came to a stop and waited for Draco to catch up to him. 

“Done showing off?” he grumbled.

“Not even close!” Harry took off towards the goal hoops at the far end of the pitch, and wove in and out of them. Draco followed more slowly, watching Harry with a look of surprise.

“You sure you haven't flown before?” he called, as Harry started circling him.

“I think I'd remember _flying_ , you git!” Harry laughed. “Although when I was a baby Hagrid did take me to my aunt and uncle's house on a flying motorbike.”

Draco blinked. “Well, you're pretty good. I'm still better, though.”

“Oh yeah? Catch me and prove it!” With that, Harry took off, soaring over the stands and heading towards the Forbidden Forest. Draco swore and shot off after him.

Inside the Forest Harry had to slow down a little, as the trees blocked out nearly all of the early evening light. Tree branches rose up out of the gloom to unseat him and scratch at his face, so he dropped a little lower. Closer to the ground there were less obstacles, and he soon found a narrow path. He followed it all the way to a small clearing, and waited there for Draco, who appeared a minute later. Harry wondered briefly how his hair stayed so immaculate after flying through a forest. Harry's looked like he'd just gotten out of bed most of the time, and he didn't even want to know what it looked like at the moment. 

“Potter, must everything you do ruin my clothes?” Draco demanded as he came to a stop. “First that dog drools in my lap, and now I have a giant tear in my sleeve.” He shook the offending arm at Harry, who laughed. 

“Shouldn't have flown into a tree then, Malfoy.”

“Shouldn't have – Gah, you'll be the death of me, I swear.” Draco looked around the clearing, frowning, but brightened when he saw an apple tree “Apples! Excellent, I'm starving.”

He flew towards the tree and snagged an apple off the top branch and bit into it. “Oh, that's good. Want one?” At Harry's nod, he threw another apple to him, but the throw fell short of where he was hovering. Shooting a glare at Draco, Harry dived after the apple, catching it a few feet off the ground. He bit into it triumphantly as he rose back up to meet Draco.

Who was watching him open-mouthed.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head and closed his mouth. “That dive! I thought you were going to crash for sure!”

“I was fine,” Harry said defensively.

“I know – that's my point. You caught an apple in a dive the first time you flew!” Draco started pulling off more apples, not stopping until he had a large bunch in the front of his robes. “Here, I'll throw some more, and you can see if you can catch them all like that.”

“Can't I just eat this one in peace?”

“No, I want to see you do that again.” With that, Draco threw an apple to Harry's right.

Cursing, he dropped the apple he'd been eating and went after the new one, catching it easily. He caught all the rest just as easily, even as Draco's throws became more and more wild.

“Okay, last one!” Draco finally called when the evening light had all but left the Forest. “I'm going low!”

Harry pointed his broom down, then swore as the apple flew high over his head. Muttering about lying Malfoys, he whipped his broom around and tore after it. Eyes fixed on the green projectile, he didn't notice another set of eyes watching him. Not until he went into a sharp dive to catch the apple-

And came to an abrupt stop directly in front of Snape.

Harry gulped and clutched his apple.

Snape had been collecting potions ingredients in the Forest, to judge from the plant clippings poking out of the basket next to him. He dusted his hands on his robes and stood up smoothly so that he was looking down on Harry, who was hovering a foot off the ground.

“Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to -”

“To what, Mr Potter? Didn't mean to sneak into the broom cupboard whilst the rest of the school is at dinner? Didn't mean to steal a broom and go careening through the Forbidden Forest? The forest so named because students, such as yourself, are forbidden from entering it?” Snape raised an eyebrow as he waited for Harry's response.

He was saved from thinking up an excuse when they suddenly heard Draco shouting through the trees. “Potter, what are you doing? Don't tell me you've fallen off and – oh.” Draco's eyes widened at the sight of Snape. He hesitated before going down to stand next to Harry, who took that as a hint to get off his own broom.

“Professor, we...”

“Silence, Mr Malfoy,” Snape looked at him briefly before turning back to Harry. “Much as it pains me to say this... That was an admirable piece of flying, Mr Potter.”

Harry gaped at him for a second. “Uh, thank you, sir.”

“Oh, don't thank me yet. Both of you come with me.” As they set off, he continued. “Thank me after you've had your first training session as Slytherin's new Seeker.”

Harry stared at him bemused, but Draco gasped. “Seeker, sir?”

“Seeker, Mr Potter. Surely Mr Malfoy here has informed you about Quidditch?” At Harry's nod, he continued. “While the Slytherin team was victorious last year, it was not due to the superb flying skills of our Seeker. I shall inform the captain that he has a new Seeker, and you shall begin training next week.”

Harry and Draco walked in silence for a while. Neither could quite believe what had just happened, but they weren't about to risk Snape's wrath by talking. 

It was Snape who eventually broke the silence. “Have you sufficient money for a broom of your own, Mr Potter?”

“Yes, sir, in my vault at Gringotts.”

“Very good. I shall borrow Madam Hooch's broomstick catalogue tomorrow, and you can place an order via owl. You may have a look at the catalogue during your detention.”

“Detention, sir?”

“Yes, Mr Potter, detention. You may be just the thing needed to further improve our team, but that doesn't alter the fact that you broke the rules.” He smirked at them both. “You and Mr Malfoy shall be joining me tomorrow morning to clean out the cauldrons your moronic classmates seem bent on destroying.”  


********

  
Snape left them when they reached the castle after warning them not to get caught out after curfew. Harry watched until his robes billowed around the corner and then grabbed Draco excitedly.

“Draco, I'm going to be a Seeker!” Harry couldn't believe his luck. He'd never been picked for teams in school before, as no one had wanted Dudley to think they liked Harry. 

Draco allowed Harry to shake him for a few seconds before pulling away. “Congratulations.”

Harry hesitated. “Is there... Are you okay?”

“Fine. I'm fine.” Draco forced a smile.

“You don't look it,” said Harry bluntly.

“Well if you must know, it's a little disconcerting to be out-flown by someone on their first go!”

“I'm sorry. How was I supposed to know that Snape would do that?” Harry was worried. Was he about to lose his first friend?

“Oh, do stop looking like I just kicked your puppy. I imagine it'll all be worth it if Slytherin win the cup again this year.” Draco smiled again, more convincingly. “You know what this means, right?”

“Er, you need to help me choose a broom tomorrow?”

“Well, yes, obviously. But also: we need to celebrate. Let's go down to the kitchens and steal some sweets.”

“Where are the kitchens?”

“Follow me.”

Draco led him to a corridor one floor below that was lined with paintings of food. A few Hufflepuffs were walking ahead of them; their common room must be nearby.

“Look out for a painting of a bowl of fruit,” Draco said quietly. “We need to tickle the pear.”

“Tickle the pear?” Harry snorted. 

“Shut up, Potter, it's how we get into the kitchens, my mother told me.” Draco glared at him. 

“Sorry. Look, it must be this painting.” Harry reached out and tickled the pear. Sure enough, the pear giggled, before turning into a door handle. Harry opened the door and walked through, before stopping so abruptly that Draco ran into the back of him. 

“Oof! You prat, what do you think you're doing?” Draco muttered.

“Sorry! It's just, what on earth are they?” Harry whispered.

The kitchen was enormous, and it was dominated by four long tables that Harry could tell mirrored the house tables in the Great Hall. There were stoves and ovens around the edges of the rooms, and scurrying all over the place were the strangest creatures Harry had ever seen.

“What? Oh, they're just house-elves,” Draco replied, bored. “Hogwarts has a lot of them. They cook and clean and generally look after wizards. We've a few back at the Manor, you can see them if you come visit.”

Harry's reply was interrupted by a group of house-elves rushing over to them and bowing.

“What is sirs wanting?” Harry stared as the lead elf addressed them. 

“Some sweets.” Draco replied. The group instantly ran off, returning quickly with two large bags bulging with food.

“Is sirs wanting anything else?” The lead elf squeaked.

“No, this is enough.” Draco turned to go, grabbing Harry.

“Thank you!” Harry called over his shoulder. The door shut on the elves' high-pitched reply. He turned to Draco, who was now checking his watch. “They're really cute. Weird, but cute.”

“If you think they're weird, you should see Dobby.”

“Dobby? Who's Dobby?”

“One of the house-elves at home. You can meet him when you come visit. In the meantime, we should hurry, curfew started a few minutes ago.”

“What? Crap, the dungeons are on the other side of the castle, we better run.” 

They hefted their bags onto their shoulders, and had just returned to the Entrance Hall when they heard a meow. They watched in horror as Mrs Norris came stalking towards them from the passageway that lead to the dungeons. 

“Run!”

They spun around and pelted up the first staircase they saw. They could hear Filch's wheezing behind them. As they came to another landing, Harry grabbed Draco and pulled him off into the corridor. They passed a few doors before coming to the one at the end. Harry yanked on the handle but it wouldn't budge. 

“ _Alohomora_ ,” he gasped, and the door opened. They quickly darted inside and shut the door.

“I think we lost him,” Harry panted.

“We'll wait a few minutes and then go back out,” Draco said.

A low growling sound came from behind them. They spun around and saw a giant, three-headed dog snarling at them.

“Or go back out now!” Harry yelped.

“Now's good!” Draco pushed the door open and they ran back out, slamming it as the dog tried to lunge for them. They ran back down to the Entrance Hall via a different route. Luck was on their side, as Filch seemed to have gone down a different corridor. Finally, they reached the dungeons and slowed down.

“What the _hell was that_?” Harry asked.

“A great big three-headed bloody dog!” Draco clutched at a stitch in his side. “On a trapdoor.”

Harry jerked his head up. “A trapdoor?”

“It was standing on it. Like it was guarding it.”

“Guarding... Oh!” Harry stared into space for a second as he put the pieces together. He came to as Draco waved his hand in front of his face.

“Come _on_ Potter, we need to get inside before Snape sees us and gives us another detention.” 

Harry followed Draco as he entered the common room. They got a few curious glances as they made their way to their dorm. Finding it empty, they flopped gratefully onto their beds and dropped the food on the floor. 

“Why'd you go all funny when I mentioned the trapdoor?” Draco asked.

“Huh? Oh, er, I was thinking...” Harry replied.

“Ah, that's why I didn't recognise it.”

“Git.”

“Prat.” A pillow came flying through the air and hit Harry in the face. 

“Alright, alright! You said it looked like the dog was guarding something, right? Well, you know that break in they had at Gringotts? Hagrid and I were there that day, and he took a package out of an otherwise empty vault. All he'd tell me was that it was official Hogwarts business.”

“So you think the dog is guarding this package?” Draco sat up to look at him.

“Yep.” Harry replied, just as the door opened and their dorm-mates entered.

“Could you two be bigger drama queens?” Blaise demanded. “You skip dinner and then rush in here like the hounds of hell are after you.”

Harry and Draco shared a look. “Uh, we ran into Snape outside and missed dinner, so we went to get some food from the kitchen.” 

“Filch and his cat came after us just as curfew started,” added Draco. “And you should be thanking us, we got enough food for everyone. We're celebrating tonight.”


	3. In Which We Discover the Tension in Gryffindor House, and Harry Forms Suspicions About Quirrell

Detention the next morning wasn't as bad as Harry had been dreading. Snape had merely pointed out the cauldrons that needed cleaning, and left them to it for a couple of hours as he marked some essays. Harry and Draco had worked in silence until the cauldrons were gleaming again, and then pored over the catalogue Snape produced. Harry was glad Draco had promised to help him choose his broom, as he didn't know enough about brooms to make up his mind. Snape filled out the order form for his new Nimbus 2000, then looked at Harry intently.

“I have had to speak to the captain, Marcus Flint, about your skill. He wasn't best pleased about taking you on without the normal try outs, so I imagine your first practise will be somewhat of a trial. Further, I have had to vouch for your continuing good grades to the Headmaster. See that I am not disappointed in either of these.”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. Your broom will be delivered to me so it doesn't cause a scene in the Great Hall. I shall inform both yourself and Mr Flint when it arrives. You may go.”

Harry and Draco got to the Great Hall just in time for lunch. They joined their classmates at the Slytherin table. 

“Our fearless Seeker finally decides to grace us with his presence,” Blaise drawled.

“Not our fault we've been in detention all morning,” Harry replied.

“No, it's _your_ fault. If you hadn't flown into Snape we could've slept in this morning,” grumbled Draco.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I'll make it up to you.”

“How?” Draco demanded.

“Er, I'll let you have a go on my Nimbus 2000 when I get it,” Harry improvised.

“That's acceptable.” 

“Could I have a go, too?” Theo asked.

“Sure.”

“How exactly will this be making anything up to me if everyone gets a go?” Draco asked.

“You can have two goes?” Harry put on what he hoped was a winning smile.

“Fine.”

Just then Hermione walked up to the table with Neville in tow. 

“Would you like to join us outside? It's such a nice day, we thought we'd do our homework down by the lake.” Hermione looked at Harry expectantly.

“Sure. Did you guys want to come?” Harry turned to his classmates.

In the end everyone but Vince and Greg joined them. 

“But that's a good thing,” Pansy told Hermione. “Trying to do homework with them around would lead to one of us committing murder.”

Harry was laughing when he caught sight of the other Gryffindor first years glaring at Hermione and Neville.

“Er, why are the rest of the Gryffindors looking at you like they hate you?” Harry muttered to them.

Draco laughed. “Ignore him, he's paranoid about stuff like that. Your classmates-” he broke off when he looked at the Gryffindor table. “Oh, no, he's right for once. Huh.”

Hermione snorted. “The other girls don't like me because I'd rather read my textbooks than an article on how to tame frizzy hair.”

Daphne and Pansy both looked at her hair. “They do have a point.” Pansy said bluntly.

Hermione glared at her before continuing. “And then last night Lavender and Parvati spent half an hour trying to get me to tell them which Professor I thought was the most attractive.”

“Who did you say?” Daphne asked her, giggling. 

“McGonagall. I said I liked how strict she was. That shut them up for a bit,” Hermione smirked as the others laughed. As Daphne started telling Hermione about her favourite hair potion, Draco turned to Neville.

“What about you, Longbottom?”

“Who – who do I find attractive?” Neville stammered.

“Uh, no. Why don't the Gryffindor boys like you?”

“Oh. It's you guys, basically. They – they don't think I should be friends with Slytherins,” said Neville apologetically. “Well, it's Ron, mostly. Dean and Seamus don't really care that much, but Ron thinks Hermione and I are some sort of – of house traitors.”

“House traitors? How pathetic. Just tell him you can't help it if you have the good taste to choose snakes over weasels,” said Blaise. 

“Or that you're allergic to gingers,” added Daphne. 

“Or just beat them in Quidditch, Harry,” said Millicent.

Hermione looked up, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Harry's the new Slytherin Seeker, and he's going to crush you next month!” Pansy crowed. 

Harry went red as Hermione started pestering him about how he became Seeker. Neville just looked awestruck. The Slytherins, having heard the story before, pulled ahead to find a comfortable spot by the lake. 

“Well, congratulations,” Hermione said doubtfully as they joined them. “But you really shouldn't have broken the rules like that! You could get into serious trouble!”

Harry shrugged. “Next time I just won't get caught.”  


********

  
Harry quickly settled into his new routine at Hogwarts. Apart from classes and his new friends, he soon had Quidditch practices a couple of times a week.

Just as Snape had predicted, Flint didn't make his first practise easy, but after putting Harry through his paces, he grudgingly conceded that Harry would make a good Seeker. The rest of the team was more enthusiastic, even Terence Higgs, who had been lined up to play Seeker. Instead, he became the second Beater, along with Gemma Farley. The rest of the team consisted of Flint, Adrian Pucey and Crick Shabes as the Chasers, and Miles Bletchley played Keeper. Harry fitted into the line up with ease, and Flint was soon declaring them champions in the Quidditch Cup.

After all his nervousness over flying lessons, Harry didn't end up having any. When she had seen him at the first lesson, Madam Hooch had told him that, as he was already on a house team, he'd be wasting his time at flying classes. Dismissed, Harry waved at his friends and wandered back to the castle. With nothing to do, he headed up to the owlery to visit Hedwig. 

Hedwig was happy to see Harry, and even happier to see the meat chunks he'd brought her from the kitchen. After stroking her as he told her about his week, he put her back on her perch and left. He still had over an hour before his friends would be done with their lesson, so he decided to go to the library to research his Potions essay. A whiff of garlic had him thinking of dinner, when he realised he was walking past the third floor corridor. How could he smell anything the house elves were cooking four floors below him? Puzzled, he looked around him. 

Just in time to see Snape gliding towards him. 

“Mr Potter. Why are you not in class?”

“Madam Hooch told me there was no point in attending flying lessons, since I was already on the team, sir,” Harry answered. 

“I see. So you decided to stand outside a corridor you know very well to be off limits?”

“Er, no, sir. I just visited my owl, and now I'm off to the library. To research that essay you set us.” Harry looked nervously at Snape, whose steady gaze made Harry feel like he was being X-rayed. 

“You'd best be off then. You wouldn't want someone to see you here and jump to the wrong conclusions,” Snape finally said. 

“Yes sir,” Harry smiled and walked off. While he hadn't done anything wrong, he couldn't help thinking it wouldn't go well for him to be found near the corridor again. Then again, why was Snape there in the first place? It was miles from the dungeons. As he turned into the library doorway, he chanced a look back. Snape was still outside the corridor door, running his hand over the wood.  


********

  
On the morning of Halloween, breakfast had no sooner finished than the house-elves started cooking for the Halloween feast. The smell of baking pies followed Harry as he made his way down to Potions, and even though he'd just eaten, his stomach grumbled.

“You can't be serious,” said Draco incredulously, looking at Harry's stomach.

“What? Don't tell me that doesn't smell good to you too,” Harry said. 

“Of course it does. That doesn't mean I'm going to spend the rest of the day drooling over pumpkin pie,” Draco said. 

“Neither will I. I'll also be drooling over apple pie, treacle tart, spiced pumpkin juice, and chocolate everything...” Harry smiled. Draco was laughing as Snape swept past them to the front of the room.

“Hard as it may be to tear your attention away from tonight's feast,” Snape smirked briefly at Harry, who reddened. “Today you will be brewing your own nausea preventatives. I trust they will come in handy for those of you who are capable of brewing them properly. Here are your essays on the properties of the ingredients; those of you who did poorly will no doubt find your remedies just as useless after over-indulging later tonight.” 

With a flick of his wand, Snape sent their essays soaring back to them, and the instructions appeared on the blackboard. Harry was pleased to see he'd done well on his essay, though not as well as Draco or Hermione. His part on peeled ginger was heavily crossed out; it needed to be added after the potion had been removed from the heat, or it could make the potion cause the nausea to worsen. Shuddering at the thought, he set to work on his potion. 

It was a pleasant potion to make. There were more herbs than dissected beetles in it, and Harry soon found himself growing hungry again. When it turned the deep blue described on the board, he set it to simmer for ten minutes and started to pack up the ingredients he'd finished with. Beside him, Draco was doing the same. On his other side, Hermione was trying to show Neville the proper way to slice his mint leaves.

“Focus on your own potion, Miss Granger, not Mr Longbottom's,” said Snape as he prowled around the room. Hermione jumped and turned away from Neville, who looked miserable. Snape nodded briefly at Harry and Draco's potions. 

Harry had taken his potion off the flames and was carefully peeling his ginger when Snape returned to the front of the room. “Granger, I believe I have already told you once to desist helping Longbottom. Five points from Gryffindor. Next person who talks will lose ten.”

Hermione, who had already bottled her finished potion, turned red and started packing up. Neville was peeling his ginger with shaking hands, but Harry knew his potion was a lost cause. Instead of blue, it had turned a shocking shade of pink. 

Harry turned back to his own potion, which was ready to be bottled, when he heard someone talking behind him. He looked up, but Snape was answering Theo's questions about mint. Turning around, Harry saw that it was Ron talking to Hermione.

“-always showing off. Well are you happy now? Or do you want to get some more points taken off?” Ignoring an elbow from one of his friends, he continued. “You should be in Ravenclaw, no one wants nerds like you in Gryffindor, you little know it all!”

At that, Hermione let out a sob and ran from the room, leaving her potion and books behind. Snape's eyes followed her out the door, before flicking to Ron. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley.”

While Ron glared at Snape, Harry took his chance. “ _Wingardium leviosa_ ,” he said, pointing his wand at Ron's ingredients. Just before Ron turned back around, Harry had floated some of Ron's ginger into his still simmering potion. A puff of smoke rose up, but apart from that, there was no noticeable difference to the potion. Smirking, Harry turned back to bottle his potion. “Stay after class, Mr Potter.”

When the rest of the class left, Harry remained sitting at his desk. Snape waited until the last student had left, then looked at Harry. “Did you enjoy your little piece of revenge?” Snape asked, standing in front of Harry's desk.

Harry looked up at him. “Er...”

“Did it ever occur to you that you could have seriously injured Mr Weasley, or any number of students, by adding the wrong ingredients to an already poorly made potion?”

“But I didn't! I mean, I made sure it was the ginger that I levitated...” Harry trailed off as he realised he'd just admitted to sabotaging Ron's potion. Taking a breath, he plunged on anyway. “So that he wouldn't realise anything was wrong. And maybe he'll drink it and feel as bad as he made Hermione feel.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So it was a fit of gallantry?”

“Yes!” Gallantry sounded better than revenge. “I didn't like the way he was... I don't like bullies, sir.”

Snape looked at him in silence for a moment. “Indeed. Well, Mr Potter, it's your lucky day. I confess myself impressed that you were able to achieve your revenge in such a subtle manner. I shall not be taking any action. This time.”

“You're – you're not punishing me?”

“No. Weasley's diatribe was uncalled for. Furthermore, you amused me.”

“So you're not going to tell him his potion will backfire?”

“I believe I said I shan't be taking any action.” Snape smirked. “Yours will work fine, however.”

Harry grinned back. “Thanks, sir!” He picked up his bag, along with Hermione's things and left.

Harry's talk with Snape had made him late for his next class, but as it was History of Magic, he was able to slip in without Professor Binns noticing. He spent the rest of the lesson filling Draco in on what had happened.

“And he's really not punishing you?” Draco whispered incredulously.

“Nope! He said Weasley deserved it and I'd amused him,” Harry whispered back.

“Oh, I am so looking forward to seeing Weasley stuff his face at the feast,” Draco said blissfully.

“I'm just looking forward to giving Hermione back her bag. I swear she's got half the library in there,” said Harry resentfully.

“Aw, regretting your outburst of chivalry?” Draco teased.

“No, just looking forward to not walking around weighed down by a tonne of books, you git.”

“Prat.”  


********

  
When they got to the Great Hall for the feast, Harry made a beeline for the Gryffindor table, intending to give Hermione back her things. But she wasn't there.

“Neville, where's Hermione?”

“She's, uh, she hasn't come back after Potions. I don't know where she is. You could ask her room mates,” Neville pointed out some girls to Harry.

“Right, er, thanks.” Harry wasn't optimistic about this, but he turned to the girls anyway. “So, uh, have any of you seen Hermione?” 

When they just giggled and shook their heads, Harry turned away in disgust. “Enjoy the feast, Neville,” he said as he headed to the Slytherin table.

“Why are you still carrying her bag?” Draco asked him as he sat down.

“She wasn't there. Hasn't been seen since Potions, apparently,” said Harry.

Draco frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“No idea.”

“There are some girls' toilets not far from the Potions classroom,” Daphne said. “Maybe she's hiding in there.”

“Still?”

Daphne shrugged. “If I had the choice between toilets and those Gryffindor girls, I know where I'd be.”

Harry smiled. “I'll check there after the feast. Thanks, Daphne.”

As the feast appeared on the tables, Harry took his anti-nausea potion. He could see other first years doing the same. Craning his neck, he smiled in satisfaction when he saw Ron drinking his too. All of a sudden, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall. He reached the staff table and leant against it. 

“Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know,” he gasped before fainting as the students erupted in panic.

Dumbledore's voice rang out over the hall. “Prefects lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

“Has someone told him the Slytherin dormitories are _in_ the dungeons?” Pansy shrieked.

“First years, follow me please!” Gemma called. Reed stood next to her. “Quickly, now!”

The prefects started to lead them out of the hall. Harry grabbed up his bag and gasped. “Draco – Hermione wouldn't know about the troll!”

Draco looked at him. “You can't be – Oh, alright, let's go. But be quick!”

The two of them followed the rest of the first years, then ducked down the Potions corridor as they passed it. Soon the sound of the other students receded, and they were left in the silent corridor. When they got to the girls' toilets, Harry raised his hand to knock. 

“Oh, for – get out of the way!” Draco nudged Harry aside and pushed the door open. “Hermione? Are you in here?”

There was silence for a second, before a small voice answered. “Draco?”

“Yes. Harry's here too. You need to come with us. Right now.”

“You can't be in here! It's a girls' toilet!” Hermione emerged from a stall red-eyed.

“Hermione, there's a troll in the dungeons. We had to come warn you,” said Harry. 

“A _troll_?”

“Yes, now come _on_!” Draco grabbed her hand and started dragging her to the door. Harry rolled his eyes and followed, dragging both bags. 

The corridor outside was deserted. As they started heading back to the Entrance Hall, Harry looked at Hermione. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a little smile. “I'll be fine. Thanks Harry, Draco.”

Draco laughed. “Don't thank us now. Wait until Weasley's spent the night locked in the toilet.”

Hermione looked at him in confusion. 

“I added some ginger to his potion a little early,” Harry explained. 

Hermione frowned at him before her face broke into a smile. “You didn't!”

“Yep. And the best part is, I saw him taking it at the feast. Snape didn't tell him there was anything wrong with his potion.”

Hermione smiled back. “Oh Harry, that's – What was that?”

A scraping sound was coming from the corridor behind them. Whirling around, they saw a twelve foot troll lumbering towards them, dragging a crude club. They gagged as its stench swept over them. 

“Run!”

They took off the other way, but didn't get far before Hermione's bag strap broke under the stress it was under. 

“My books!”

“Leave them! We don't have time!” Draco snapped. 

“But-”

Harry and Draco grabbed an arm each and tugged her along, just as the troll slammed its club into the ground. Suddenly, Snape and McGonagall came racing up the corridor, with Quirrell trailing behind them.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Snape shouted. The troll's club went flying out of its hand. The troll looked dumbly after its club. With a roar of rage, it gave it up as a lost cause, and advanced bare-handed.

McGonagall raised her wand as Snape dragged the others back. “ _Wingardium leviosa_!” A large statue of a boar was raised off its plinth and smashed into the troll's head. With a groan, the troll keeled over backwards. 

“ _Incarcerous_.” Thick ropes flew out of the end of McGonagall's wand and bound the troll head to foot as Quirrell let out a whimper. Shooting him a contemptuous glance, McGonagall turned her attention to the others. “What exactly were the three of you doing?”

Harry and Draco looked at each other, but it was Hermione who answered. “It – it was me, Professor. I was – I was in the bathroom all day and hadn't come to dinner, and they came to warn me about the troll. We were on our way back to our dormitories when the troll caught up with us.”

“Why on earth were you in the bathroom all day?”

“An unfortunate incident took place in my class this morning,” Snape cut in. “I was not aware that Miss Granger had not rejoined her classmates.”

“Unfortunate incident?”

“Rest assured the offending student has been punished,” Snape replied. Harry and Draco stifled their laughter. 

“I see. Well, in that case, Quirrell, alert the Headmaster of the location of the troll.” As McGonagall watched him trot off, Harry thought he saw her roll her eyes. “As for you three, count yourselves lucky that that troll didn't corner you in the bathroom. Severus, if you'll take those two back to their dormitories, I'll escort Miss Granger upstairs.”

Hermione picked up her books and followed McGonagall without another word. 

“That'll be a fun conversation,” Draco said drily. 

“What do you mean?” Harry looked back at Hermione. 

“McGonagall's going to grill Hermione on why she was in the bathroom.”

“Undoubtedly. Come along you two,” Snape commanded. “Next time you feel the urge to save the damsel in distress, kindly fetch a member of staff instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds as they followed Quirrell's path. Now that they were getting away from the troll, its stench was fading too. 

“God, Quirrell left long before us and we can still smell his bloody turban,” Draco muttered.

“The garlic is not in his turban. Rather, his rooms are all heavily decorated with it, and thus the scent follows him around,” Snape replied.

Something clicked in Harry's mind. “Sir? Why is the third-floor corridor out of bounds?”

“It's none of your concern.” Snape frowned at him. 

“Sorry, sir. It's just... Would there be any reason for Quirrell to be hanging around there?” Harry pressed on. 

Snape's frown deepened. “Why do you ask?”

Harry hesitated. “Well, that day I ran into you outside the corridor, I could smell garlic.”

“Coincidence, no doubt,” Snape finally said, as they reached the door to the common room. 

“But -”

“But you think Quirrell has some nefarious plan involving a school corridor. I'll be sure to pass along your suspicions to the Headmaster straight away.” With that, Snape left them. Draco laughed as Harry stared balefully at Snape's retreating figure. 

“He's lying. There's something off about Quirrell,” said Harry.

“Yes, well, seeing as you thought Snape was out to get you not so long ago, you'll forgive me if I'm a little sceptical about this. Now come on, I'm starving.”

Draco led him into the common room, where they found the rest of the Slytherins enjoying the feast. As Harry joined him with the other first years, he resolved that he would make Draco believe him, no matter what Snape said.


	4. In Which Harry Plays His First Quidditch Match

As November began, Harry forgot all about his suspicions of Quirrell. The Quidditch season was beginning, and the first match was Slytherin versus Gryffindor. 

On the morning of the match, Harry was sitting at breakfast as his friends chatted excitedly about the game. 

“Here, eat this.” Draco dumped a large amount of sausages on his plate.

“I'm not that hungry,” Harry replied, pushing the now full plate away.

“You need to eat something, Harry,” said Theo.

“Yeah, get your strength up. The Gryffindor Beaters will be aiming at you all match,” added Millicent.

“Not helping, Milly,” snapped Pansy. 

“My name is Millicent.”

“Fine. Stop putting Harry off his food, _Millicent_.”

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled Harry's plate back towards him. “Potter. Eat. Something.”

Harry grabbed a slice of toast and took a bite. “Happy?”

“I will be when you catch the Snitch today.”

A hush fell across the table, apart from Pansy and Millicent, who were still bickering. Harry looked up to see Hermione and Neville standing next to him nervously.

“We just wanted to wish you luck today, Harry,” Hermione said. Neville nodded behind her. “Not that we want you to win, of course.”

“So not that much luck, then,” laughed Draco. 

“Well, obviously we want Gryffindor to win. Just...”

“I get it. Thanks, guys,” Harry smiled. 

“So you'll be sitting with us today, then?” Daphne asked. 

“S-sitting with you?” Neville blushed. 

“Of course they are. My father's sent me a whole bag of binoculars for my friends and I, and I have two spare pairs.” Draco smiled smugly as he pulled said bag from under the table and handed the binoculars out to everyone. “Not to mention the Gryffindor team might be put off seeing a few of their House mates abandoning them before the game even starts,” he said to Harry in an undertone. 

Harry was laughing at Draco when he saw the rest of the team getting up from the table. “Gotta go.” He grabbed his Nimbus and followed them down to the changing rooms. The team changed and then waited for Flint to come in.

“Nervous, Harry?” Gemma asked him.

“A bit, yeah.”

“You got nothing to worry about. Their Seeker McLaggen doesn't measure up to you.” Terence said. 

“They chose McLaggen?” Shabes laughed. “The only thing Potter will need to worry about is that fool running into him mid-flight.”

“Don't worry Harry, Shabes is actually trying to be encouraging,” Gemma said.

“What do you mean, trying?” Shabes asked indignantly.

“She means stop getting our new Seeker worried,” said Terence.

“Please, short of falling off that Nimbus of his, he can't mess this up,” said Shabes.

Miles laughed. “Do us all a favour. When Flint gives us his big speech before the game, don't join in.”

“What'd I say?” 

Just then Flint walked in. “Alright you lot. Apart from two new Chasers, they've got the same team as last year. This match should be even easier than that one was. Let's go.”

“That's his big speech?” Harry muttered to Adrian. 

“About as big as they get, yeah,” Adrian laughed. 

The team walked out onto the pitch and gathered around Madam Hooch. 

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” she said as the captains shook hands. “Mount your brooms, please.”

On Hooch's whistle both teams rose into the air. Harry flew up to circle above the game, searching for the Snitch. He could see his friends easily; there were two spots of red and gold in amongst the green and silver of the Slytherin stand. Cheered, he began scanning the pitch for the Snitch. 

This far up Harry didn't have to worry about being in the way of the other players, which left him free to listen to the commentator as he searched. He laughed as the commentator, a Gryffindor boy with dreadlocks, got told off by McGonagall for talking about the attractiveness of a Gryffindor Chaser instead of the match.

“Something funny, Potter?”

Harry swung his broom around to see McLaggen, the Gryffindor Seeker. “Just your flying.”

McLaggen scowled. “Like I'm going to be out-flown by a first year. How'd you get on the team anyway? Bribery? Trading on your fame?”

“Nah. It was apples.” 

With that Harry flew off, leaving a very confused Seeker in his wake. Gryffindor scored a goal, and he had to duck a Bludger that came speeding towards him, but he'd had no sign of the Snitch yet. 

“Slytherin in possession,” continued the commentator. “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell” - Harry gave a cheer - “and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?”

Harry jerked his broom around and sure enough, there was a flash of gold near Adrian's ear, who had dropped the Quaffle as the Snitch flitted around him. Harry tore after the Snitch, but McLaggen was well ahead of him. Harry leant closer to his broomstick and he started gaining on him. It wasn't going to be enough though, McLaggen was only metres from the Snitch, any second he'd be reaching out to catch the -

WHUMP! Flint had swung his broom around and blocked McLaggen, who wheeled away swearing. As the Gryffindors in the stands below screamed angrily, Hooch blew her whistle and awarded a penalty shot to a Gryffindor Chaser. Harry used the free time to look for the Snitch, but it had disappeared.

The commentary took a decidedly non-objective turn after all the drama. 

“So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating -”

“Jordan!” McGonagall snapped.

“I mean, after that open and revolting foul -”

“ _Jordan, I'm warning you_ -”

“All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.”

Harry had just given the finger to the commentator when his broom gave a violent lurch. Hastily putting his hand back on the handle, he tried to straighten his broom but it continued to buck violently underneath him. When he tried to go to Flint to get him to call a time out, he realised that his broom was completely out of his control. It wouldn't obey a single thing he tried to do; it was all he could do to hold on to it. 

“Flint!” Harry called in desperation. He opened his mouth to call again, but got winded as the handle jerked up and whacked him in the chest. As he gasped for breath the broom spun quickly, and suddenly he was hanging from it by one hand. 

Harry swung under his broom, hundreds of metres above the ground with his robes flapping around him. He was dimly aware that some of his team mates were trying to get close to him – whether to catch him or pull him onto their own brooms, he didn't know. Whenever anyone came too close his broom jumped up a couple of metres higher. 

Out of nowhere, Harry's broom stilled above him, and he quickly scrambled back on top of it. As he did, something flew into his mouth. At first he though it was a bug, but then he realised it was metal. He'd caught the Snitch. 

He put his hand over his mouth so it couldn't escape and dove towards the ground. He half fell onto the ground and coughed up the Snitch.

“I've got the Snitch!” he shouted and waved it over his head. 

Hooch blew her whistle to end the match. The rest of the Slytherin team converged on Harry. The Gryffindor team landed and made their way dejectedly to their changing rooms, apart from their captain, who was gesticulating angrily at Hooch. Jordan was shouting that swallowing the Snitch shouldn't count as catching it, until McGonagall wrenched the megaphone out of his grip to announce Slytherin had won one hundred and sixty points to twenty. Slytherins came pouring onto the pitch to surround the team as they made their way back to the changing rooms. Just as Harry was about to enter, someone yanked him back by his arm. He looked up to see Draco, with a worried Hermione behind him.

“Get changed quickly and meet us at Hagrid's” was all he said before the two of them walked off.

Harry changed quietly as the rest of the team were boisterously celebrating. Harry eventually managed to escape by promising Flint he would get his malfunctioning broom looked at, and headed to Hagrid's. 

When he got there, Hermione wrenched the door open and enveloped him in a fierce hug, knocking his Nimbus against his head painfully.

“Harry! We were so worried about you!” She let go of him awkwardly and returned to her seat.

He sat down next to her, and was handed a steaming mug of tea by Hagrid. Fang came over to give him a few welcoming licks, before going back to lay his head in Draco's lap. Draco sighed and gave Harry a long-suffering smile. “I believe you about Quirrell now.”

“Thanks. Good to know I only need to nearly fall to my death to get you to believe me.”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione beat him to it. “What's Quirrell got to do with Snape?”

“Quirrell jinxed Harry's broom,” said Draco.

“What? No, it was Snape. I've read about jinxes. You need to maintain eye contact and Snape didn't take his eyes off Harry at all.”

“Yeah, and neither did Quirrell!”

“Then how come Harry's broom stabilised after I set Snape on fire?” Hermione shot back.

“Because you also pushed Quirrell over. Frankly, you're lucky you're not in detention for assaulting half the staff,” retorted Draco.

“Wait, what? You set Snape _on fire_?” Harry cut in.

“Just a small one.”

“Yer all talkin' a bunch of nonsense,” said Hagrid. “Why would a Hogwarts teacher want to hurt Harry?”

“I think Quirrell's trying to get whatever that three-headed dog is guarding,” said Harry.

“How do yeh know about Fluffy?” Hagrid asked.

“Fluffy? You named that beast _Fluffy_?” Draco demanded incredulously.

“Yeah. He's mine, bought him off a Greek bloke in a pub last year. And then o' course, Dumbledore asked if he could borrow him to help guard the-”

“What?” Harry sat forward eagerly.

“Ah, don't ask me no more. That's top secret, you three don't need to worry about it.”

“Don't worry about it? Hagrid, you're keeping a giant, three-headed dog in a _school_. Leaving aside the obvious safety concerns, is that thing even getting walked?” Hermione asked.

Hagrid's face darkened briefly. “No. But Dumbledore said it won't be for long, just until he and Nicolas Flamel-”

“Who's Nicolas Flamel?” Harry asked.

“None o' yer business. The lot o' yeh should be getting' back to the castle before it gets dark, now,” said Hagrid.

Recognising they were dismissed, the three of them got up. Fang whined as Draco pushed his head off his lap. Hagrid had to hold him back as they left the hut.

Harry walked backwards to look at the others. “So now we know it has something to do with this Flamel guy.”

“But we don't know who he is,” Draco said. “Do we?” The two of them looked at Hermione.

“No, we don't,” she snapped.

“Maybe you should try cracking open a book once in a while,” Harry quipped.

“Yes, you have to take a break from setting teachers on fire some time,” added Draco.

“Shut up the both of you! If I hadn't stopped Snape, Harry could've fallen off and – and – oh!”

Harry had walked into something. He heard a quiet grunt, and then two hands gripped his arms.

“You really should watch where you're going, Mr Potter,” came Snape's voice.

Harry spun around. How much of that conversation had Snape heard? He no longer thought Snape was out to get him, but if he'd heard them joking about setting teachers on fire they'd be in for it.

“You two get back to the castle. I need to talk to Mr Potter alone,” commanded Snape.

“Yes sir,” said Draco. He set off, but Hermione lingered a moment. 

“We'll wait for you in the Entrance Hall, Harry,” she said pointedly before following Draco.

Snape snorted. “Her protectiveness towards you is touching, if rather misplaced in this case. But never mind that now. To whom have you shared your suspicions about Quirrell?”

“Er, apart from you? Draco, Hermione and Hagrid.”

Snape sighed. “Potter, I know you've been raised by your mother's idiotic relations, but surely you have enough common sense not to broadcast matters of this nature to anyone who'll listen.”

“I didn't broadcast anything! Before today I'd only spoken to you and Draco. I'm sorry if I wasn't thinking that clearly after nearly falling off my broom, but-”

“Save your sarcasm for your friends. Now give me your broomstick.”

Harry did so sullenly. Snape took out his wand and waved it over the broom, muttering so softly that Harry couldn't make out what he said. Satisfied, Snape handed him back the broom.

“Well, there are no lingering effects on your broom. Whatever jinx was used was only temporary; it will be perfectly safe to fly.”

“But what if whoever did it does it again?”

“It may have escaped your attention, but a large number of staff attend each Quidditch match. If the worst should happen and you should fall, rest assured that no harm will come to you. Well, nothing worse than the usual Quidditch injuries.”

“That's reassuring.” A thought struck Harry. “Sir? When you said my relatives were idiots – do you know them?”

Snape was silent for so long that Harry began to fear he'd gone too far. Finally, he spoke. “I have had the misfortune of meeting Petunia, yes.”

“Do you – did you know my mum?”

“Yes.” Snape's voice sounded odd, but when Harry looked up at him, his face was obscured by a curtain of hair. 

“What was she like? It's just, my aunt and uncle don't let me ask questions. All I know is that my dad was a Quidditch player, and they were Head boy and girl. And – and I know how they died.”

Snape looked at him, his black eyes glittering strangely. “You have Lily's eyes.”

When Harry opened his mouth to ask more, Snape held up a hand. “Enough, Mr Potter... I'll answer your questions, just not now. During the Christmas break. Unless of course you're returning to your aunt's for the holiday?”

“Uh, no, sir, I'll be staying here.”

“Until Boxing Day, then. In the mean time, you'd better catch up with your friends before Miss Granger begins to think I've absconded with you.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

When Harry reached the Entrance Hall, he found Draco complaining to Hermione about the dog drool on his robes while she paced up and down scowling. Draco broke off when he spotted Harry.

“Thank God you're here. Granger hasn't heard a single word I've said.”

“You're upset about your robes, it wasn't anything critical.” Hermione said dismissively.

“Nothing critical? Have you _seen_ them? If my mother saw me like this...” Draco shuddered.

Harry laughed. “You can calm down, Hermione. Snape only tried to kill me twice while you were gone.”

“Funny. What did he want to talk to you about?”

“He wanted to check out my broom for jinxes. It's perfectly fine now. And he told me to stop telling people about Quirrell.”

“Oh. That's good advice, actually,” she said, surprised. 

“Yep. But he still didn't tell me I was wrong about him.”


	5. In Which Harry Thoroughly Enjoys Christmas for Once, and Snape and Hagrid Impart Some Wisdom

On the first day of Christmas holidays, Harry awoke to an empty dormitory. The rest of his friends had all gone home for the break. With no classes for two weeks, Harry thought briefly about going back to sleep for a few hours, but thought better of it. He'd spent the last weeks of term in the library with Draco and Hermione, trying to find out anything they could on Nicolas Flamel. When she'd left the day before Hermione had told Harry not to stop looking over the holidays, as she shoved as many books as she could into her already straining bags. Draco had also promised to look through the Malfoy library; they'd decided it would be too risky for him to ask his parents as they might get suspicious.

Harry rolled out of bed, groaning when he realised how cold it was. He pulled on an extra jumper as he set off for the owlery. He'd sent Hedwig off a few days ago to order his Christmas presents for Draco and Hermione, and had told her not to bring anything to him during the mail delivery at breakfast in case one of them saw anything.

Half an hour later he was on his way to the library. Hedwig had been happy to see him as usual, and had his receipts from Flourish and Blotts. Satisfied that his presents would be delivered to his friends in time for Christmas, Harry patted Hedwig for a while before heading off for the library.  
He paused as he passed the third-floor corridor. Once again he could smell garlic, but when he pressed his ear to the door, he could hear Fluffy's breathing. He smiled and set off for the library.

That became Harry's routine over the next few days. A quick breakfast, a visit to Hedwig, and then the library for the rest of the day. Often he'd spend so long at the library that he'd miss dinner, and have to go to the kitchens to ask the house-elves. Despite his long hours researching, though, Harry was no closer to finding out who Nicolas Flamel was. By the time he fell asleep on Christmas Eve, Harry was growing very frustrated.

All that was forgotten when he woke up on Christmas Day to see a pile of presents at the foot of his bed. He grinned and scrambled down to open them. The Dursleys had sent him fifty pence, but the rest of his presents were much better. Hagrid had sent him a hand-whittled flute that sounded like an owl when Harry played it. Hermione had sent him a large box of Chocolate Frogs. He munched one as he opened Draco's gift, which turned out to be a set of chess men. While no where near as intricately carved as Draco's antique set, they were still beautiful. 

The last present had no card on it. Harry opened it to find a silvery cloak that seemed more liquid than fabric. He dropped it on his crossed legs as he saw a card flutter to the bed. 

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.  
A Very Merry Christmas to you_.

Harry frowned at the card. The hand-writing wasn't familiar, but it seemed like it was from someone who had known his dad. He put the card down to look at the Cloak again and gasped.

“What the hell?”

His legs had disappeared. Not all of them, though, just the parts that were covered by the Cloak. Harry grabbed it and jumped up to stand in front of the mirror. He swung the Cloak over himself, and sure enough, he disappeared. He grinned. “This is going to come in very handy.”

Harry was tempted to wander the castle under the Cloak, but decided he'd wait until after curfew when he had more time. Instead, he went to the library for an hour before Christmas lunch. After wasting another unsuccessful hour there he made his way to the Great Hall, cheering himself with the thought of his first Dursley-free Christmas.

Christmas lunch turned out to be more fun than he could've imagined. Though all his friends had gone home for the holidays, Gemma and Terence had both stayed on in order to study for their OWLs and NEWTs, respectively, as had a number of older students. Harry had great fun pulling Christmas crackers with them, and he was amused to find that the jokes weren't any better than the Muggle ones. 

There were large platters groaning with every type of roast imaginable, and warm cider instead of the usual pumpkin juice. The staff table had evidently been supplied with some strong wine, as most of the teachers seemed to be getting tipsy. Harry laughed as he watched Hagrid kiss a giggling McGonagall on the cheek. 

“So who do you want?” Terence asked him.

“What?”

“Sorry, forgot you're a firstie. Each year the Slytherins who stay for Christmas have a betting pool on which teacher will be the most hungover come Boxing Day,” Terence explained.

“How do you know who it is?” Harry asked. 

“It helps when our Head of House is the one brewing the hangover cures,” said Gemma. “My money's on McGonagall. Again. Four years running, and I've never won before. But then I've never seen her _giggle_ before, either.”

“I'm going for Flitwick. Someone that small has to be a lightweight,” Terence said.

Harry took a minute to scan the staff table. Hagrid was an alarming shade of red, but surely he'd have to drink quite a bit. Snape was his usual dour self as he spoke to Sinistra, who was nodding seriously. Pomfrey was laughing at the hat Dumbledore had clearly received from one of the Christmas crackers. Beside her, Sprout was laughing uproariously at Hooch, who seemed to be animating the silverware in a jig of some sort. He was about to put his money on Sprout when he caught the verse of the song Hooch was singing.

“A Galleon on Hooch,” he declared.

“Hooch? Really?” Terence looked at her doubtfully.

“Trust me, those are not the original lyrics to that carol,” Harry replied as he handed over his coin. He was singing Hooch's version for them as they left the feast when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up to see Snape looking down at him.

“While I'm sure Hooch will be pleased to have taught you something given that you're not in her class, I'd advise you to stop singing that before I'm forced to dock points,” he said.

Harry grinned back. Something told him Snape wasn't that annoyed with him. “Sorry sir.”

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. Definitely not annoyed then. “I'll see you in my classroom at eleven tomorrow.”

Gemma frowned as Snape walked off. “Please tell me you don't have detention during the _holidays_.”

“Er, no. I've just asked Snape for, er, a bit of help with Potions.” Harry felt bad about lying to Gemma, but there was no way he was telling her the truth. 

Harry spent the afternoon tobogganing in the grounds with the older Slytherins, before they had an inter-House snowball fight with the Gryffindors. To his dismay, he discovered that Ron had also stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, and he took an inordinate delight in pelting Harry with the largest snowballs he could find. 

When a particularly hard snowball hit him in the head, Harry snapped. He grabbed a new snowball and ran over to Terence while Ron laughed. Harry ignored him and held out his hands to Terence. 

“Is there a spell to change the colour of something?” he panted.

“Sure. What colour did you want?” Terence looked a little confused.

“Yellow.”

Terence laughed and waved his wand. Harry's snowball turned a sickly golden colour. “Thanks!” 

Harry dodged speeding snowballs as he made his way back to where Ron gathering up more snow. “Back for more, Scarhead?” he called when he saw Harry, then paled when he saw the yellow snow Harry was carrying.

“Got a special one just for you, Weasley!” Harry yelled as he threw it. Ron's twin brothers looked up at that, and laughed along with the Slytherins when the snow hit Ron square in the chest, splattering up onto his face. Ron took one look at the yellow snow on him and ran off, scrubbing furiously at his face. 

“Why didn't we ever think of that, Fred?” asked one of the twins. 

“Dunno, George. Thanks, Potter,” Fred grinned at Harry, who grinned back and ran off before they could throw their own snowballs at him. 

By the time they made their way inside, everyone was covered in multicoloured snow. After a long hot shower, Harry retreated to his empty dorm and retrieved his Cloak. While he waited for the common room to empty a little bit, he ate some Chocolate Frogs while he studied the note that had come with the Cloak. He still had no idea who had given it to him. He frowned in annoyance and put the note back in his bedside table. He picked up the Chocolate Frog Cards to see if he'd gotten anyone new and froze. 

There it was, on the back of Dumbledore's card: _Albus Dumbledore... is particularly famous for... his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_.

Harry re-read the card to make sure he wasn't imagining things, then grabbed a quill and spare parchment.

_Draco,_  
 _Hope you're having a good holiday. I found this card in my Chocolate Frogs today and thought of you.  
Harry_

Satisfied that there wasn't anything suspicious in his note, Harry rolled it up with the card tucked inside and stuck it in his pocket. He donned his Cloak and headed straight for the owlery. He managed to slip out the common room door after another student entered, and then he was alone in the quiet school. He had to slow down a few times when he found himself speeding up; the Cloak might make him invisible, but it did nothing to muffle his footsteps. 

When he got there, Harry found the owlery much noisier than he'd ever seen it during the day. Hedwig was wide awake and took some coaxing to flutter down to him. She'd been in the middle of a fierce staring contest with another owl, and was loathe to surrender to it. She clicked her beak in its direction before landing on Harry's outstretched arm. He stroked her head soothingly.

“Just think of it as you being more popular than that other owl,” Harry whispered to her, and she preened. “Can you take this to Draco? It's important.” 

Hedwig nibbled his finger affectionately as he attached the note to her leg, then launched herself into the night. Harry watched her until she disappeared into the night before he left. As he made his way down the spiral staircase, Harry tried to decide where he should go. Under his Cloak he had the whole of the castle open to him, after all. He thought briefly of the library but rejected it. He'd spent enough time there, and after his breakthrough on discovering who Nicolas Flamel was, he told himself he deserved a night off. 

Harry had just made up his mind to go exploring when he heard a loud meow behind him. He whirled around to see Mrs Norris standing in the gloom. He wondered if she could see through the Cloak, but when he saw how she was sniffing the air, he realised she could smell the owlery on him. 

There was a door slightly open not far down the corridor. Harry tiptoed over to it before pointing his wand at a suit of armour just behind the cat. “ _Wingardium leviosa_ ,” he whispered. The suit of amour lifted the mace it was carrying before it crashed back down, clanking loudly in the silence. When Mrs Norris leapt over to inspect the armour, Harry slipped inside the door and shut it softly. He looked around him quickly. The last time he'd hidden in a strange room he'd found a monstrous dog, and he wasn't taking any chances tonight.

His luck was better this time. He was quite alone in the room, which looked like an abandoned classroom. There were dusty desks and chairs along most of the walls, except for the one directly in front of him. That wall was empty except for a large mirror that didn't look like it had any business being in a classroom.

Stepping closer, Harry could make out an engraving on the top of the frame. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Puzzled, he stepped closer, and had to clamp his mouth shut to stop from screaming. 

Not only did the mirror show his reflection despite his Cloak, but it showed a room crowded with people. Harry spun around and saw nothing, not even a ghost. He slowly looked back at the mirror. He was still there in the reflection. Ignoring that for a moment, he looked at the other people in the mirror.

Directly behind his own reflection was a young couple. The man looked like an older version of himself, though without the famous scar, and the red headed woman had his green eyes. 

“Mum? Dad?” Harry whispered. They nodded. His mum was crying despite her smile, and put her hand on his reflection's shoulder. His reflection reached back to hold it, but when Harry put his hand on his shoulder he felt nothing but himself. He blinked away sudden tears. 

He had no idea how long he stayed there in front of the mirror. When he was able to tear his eyes away from his parents' faces, he started to notice the other people in the mirror. Some had his hair, his eyes, his jaw. A lot wore glasses, but he realised with a jolt that none of them wore modern clothing, not even the people who must be his mother's Muggle relations. 

They're all dead, he thought suddenly. Was that what the mirror did? Did it show dead people? But then how was he reflected? Slightly creeped out, Harry looked around him and realised that dawn was approaching. If he wanted any sleep before going to see Snape, he had better leave now.

“I'll be back, I promise,” he said, and pressed his hand to the glass in farewell. He retraced his steps back to the stairs to the owlery tower to make sure he could find the room again, before heading back to his dorm. Luckily he didn't meet any staff on his way, as he was too preoccupied to notice how loud his footsteps were. He collapsed into his bed and stared out the window for a long time before finally falling asleep.  


********

  
Harry woke up the next morning after a restless night. His parents had featured heavily in his dreams, along with flashes of green light and cold laughter. He stumbled to the showers before heading to breakfast in a daze. He pretended to be engrossed in his Potions textbook so no one spoke to him, though he looked up when the mail arrived. When Hedwig didn't appear with an answer from Draco, he left the Hall and went for a walk in the snow covered grounds until it was time to go see Snape.

When he arrived at the Potions classroom, Snape was standing at one of the benches with a large jar of beetles. 

“Ah, Mr Potter, right on time. You'll be helping me prepare these beetles. Remove the eyes and wings, the waste goes in that barrel over there for the greenhouses. Don't cut yourself as the blood will contaminate the ingredients.”

It wasn't as bad as Harry would've thought, rather like shelling prawns for Aunt Petunia. He worked in silence as he waited for Snape to speak first. 

“Your mother and I grew up in the same town,” he said softly. Harry strained to hear. “She... Lily Evans was my first real friend.” 

When he fell silent again Harry realised it was a painful subject for Snape. Of course it is, they were friends, he told himself furiously. 

“I met your mother before we both started at Hogwarts. Lily had no idea she was a witch until I told her, though she took pleasure in the little bits of magic she could do as a child. She used to love going on the swings, letting go at the top and flying back down to earth. The fact that it annoyed your aunt so much added to its appeal, I should imagine.” 

“What about her parents? They're dead, aren't they?” Harry thought of the older couple he'd seen in the mirror, the ones with his eyes. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I, er, well, Aunt Petunia never took us to visit them. I figured I would've met them if they were still alive.” 

Snape's gaze once again made Harry feel as if he were being X-rayed. “Impressive logic.”

They lapsed into silence again. Harry swept a pile of beetles into the rubbish pile. “So what did she like to do? What were her favourite things?”

“She liked to read. Her favourite book was _Pride and Prejudice_ , which she made me read one summer. She said she saw herself in the heroine, and wouldn't let me rest until I read it. Her favourite colour was purple and she always complained that the Gryffindor colours clashed horribly with her hair. She liked treacle tart and hated getting caught in the rain.”

Harry smiled. So he'd inherited his taste in desserts from her.

“She was one of the kindest people I've known, and was popular here at Hogwarts, even amongst the staff. Our Potions teacher was a particular fan of hers.”

“Was she good at Potions, then?”

“Yes, although she was better at Charms. Her Potions marks may have been augmented by the fact that she could always copy off me.” Snape sounded smug. Harry laughed, until he saw the wistful look on Snape's face.

“You miss her.” 

“Yes.” 

They fell into silence again. Harry pretended to focus on his work as he blinked back tears. It took him a few seconds to notice he'd run out of beetles.

“That will be all for today. Wash your equipment and you may leave.”

Harry packed up quietly as he thought of his mum. As he picked up his bag to leave he stopped, before going over to where Snape was now sitting at his desk.

“Thank you, sir. For... For today. Just... Thanks.” Harry smiled awkwardly.

Snape straightened up the papers he'd been reading before looking up at him. “Your curiosity is natural.”

“Right. Well. Er, one more thing... Terence asked me to ask you-”

“Which member of staff came moaning to me for a hangover cure?” Snape smirked. “Madam Hooch. Had anyone picked her?”

“I did.”

“Congratulations then.”

“Thanks sir.” Harry grinned and headed towards the door.

“One more thing. Tell Miss Farley to stop wasting her money on Professor McGonagall. That woman can out drink anyone when it comes to whiskey, a few wines are nothing.”  


********

  
That night Harry once again slipped under his Cloak and made his way to the mirror. He dropped his Cloak on the floor and sat down, gazing at his family who were all waving at him happily.

“And here I was thinking you were at least intelligent enough to stay under an Invisibility Cloak when breaking school rules.”

Harry whipped his head around to find Snape leaning against a desk looking at him. “Professor! I didn't see you there.” Harry said lamely.

“Disillusionment Charm.” Snape picked up the Cloak and studied it. “Where did you get this from? This is remarkable.”

“Someone sent it to me at Christmas. It was my father's,” Harry said, confused. Shouldn't there be more yelling involved when getting caught after curfew?

Snape snorted. “That explains a lot.” 

When Harry looked at him in confusion, Snape sighed, sat down next to him and handed him back the Cloak. “Do you know what this mirror is? What it does?”

“Er, shows someone their family?”

“Read the inscription. Backwards.”

“Er... _I show not your face but your heart's desire_ ,” he said slowly.

“Exactly. This is the Mirror of Erised. It shows the viewer that which they most desire. Not the fleeting wants of a moment, such as dinner to one whose stomach has just started to rumble, but what one's very being yearns for. It can be quite illuminating to those who lack self awareness, though in your case your reflection can come as no surprise. It is also incredibly dangerous.”

“Dangerous? How?”

“People have lost their minds in the visions the Mirror shows them. Reality becomes unappealing in comparison to the Mirror.” 

When Snape fell silent Harry reflected on what he'd just heard. He had to agree that he had found the lure of the Mirror hard to resist.

Snape stood. “Come along, I'll escort you back to your dormitory. For the last time, I sincerely hope.”

Harry gave one last look at his parents before scrambling after Snape. “Sorry sir. I just – I'd never seen my parents before.”

Snape's mouth tightened. “Your interest in the Mirror is understandable, but unsafe. Apart from the Mirror itself, have you forgotten that a troll got into the castle just last month?”

“Er...” Harry hadn't thought of the troll since Halloween. Not with Quidditch and the search for Flamel.

“Of course not. Consumed with your school work, no doubt.”

“I've been reading in the library a lot, sir,” Harry replied. Well, that was certainly true. 

“Commendable. Though given your unorthodox choice of friends, I'd expect no less.” 

“Unorthodox?”

“There are certain beliefs amongst some of wizarding society. There are those who believe that Muggleborns, or those of mixed heritage, are inferior to those they deem to be pure-blood. Those who come from an entirely magical family,” Snape explained at Harry's puzzled frown. 

“So... It's sort of like when Muggles are racist?”

“A simplified analogy, but not incorrect. It is a belief that is particularly prevalent within Slytherin, though it is by no means restricted to our House.”

“Oh, so that's what Gemma meant when she warned me about Slytherin's reputation at the start of term?” 

“Undoubtedly. During Miss Farley's first year I had to have a talk with more than one older Slytherin about their attitude. In any case, it has come as somewhat of a shock to some of the staff to see Mr Malfoy befriending you, let alone Miss Granger.”

Harry bristled. “Are you saying Draco's racist?”

“I do not mean to impugn Mr Malfoy's friendship with you, quite the reverse. Just that it was unexpected, given that children often inherit their parents' beliefs to some extent.”

“So you're saying his _parents_ are racist then?” 

“Perhaps not his mother. But his father most definitely is.”

Harry thought that over in silence. Draco spoke about his mother quite a bit, and wrote to her regularly, but hadn't spoken about his father as much. Which would make sense, he thought, if Draco knew his dad would disapprove of Harry.

“Well, that's good to know, I guess, if I ever visit him.” Suddenly the prospect didn't seem as enticing as it once had. Not if Draco's dad was going to hate him.

“Information, even if it is distasteful or painful, is usually beneficial.” Snape glanced at him as they started down the stairs to the dungeons. “This conversation will, of course, not get repeated to Mr Malfoy when he returns to school.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, sir. I'm not an idiot.”

“Very well then. Oh, and one more thing. Do not seek to return to the Mirror again. It shall not remain in that room, and if I find you searching for it, I shall not be nearly as lenient as I have been tonight. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Snape seemed satisfied at that. “In you go, then.”

“Yes sir. Goodnight.” 

Harry walked through the silent, darkened common room with his mind whirling. He'd left the Dursleys' blind hatred of anything magical, only to find out that the magical world had people who sounded just as bad. And one of them was Draco's dad.

For the second night in a row he struggled to get to sleep.  


********

  
The next day at breakfast, Harry was once again reading his Potions textbook by himself when the post came. He was so caught up in his book that he didn't notice he'd received anything until Hedwig nipped his hand.

“Ow! Hey, you brought me something.” Harry gave her the rest of his bacon as he removed the letter from her leg. It was Draco's reply.

_Dear Harry,  
Thank you for your gift; I've been meaning to read that book for a while now. I hope your Christmas has been as enjoyable as mine. Thank you for deigning to include a brief pleasantry in your otherwise appalling note. I assume you thought someone would manage to read it and think you're dragging me into some idiotic plan. Why you think our mail is being monitored is beyond me. Besides, your handwriting is so atrocious it would work better than any code ever could._

_More to the point, did you really have to phrase it that way? Being told that an old man with uncontrollable facial hair and terrible dress sense reminds you of me isn't exactly flattering, Potter. You're lucky your paranoia is still amusing._

_In any case, I'll have a look in the Manor library for anything helpful. You might find something useful in the alchemy section at school, but I think your best bet will be to wait until Hermione and her gigantic brain return in the new year._

_Hope you're not too bored without me,  
Draco_

_PS. My mother sends her best wishes. She's been hinting that you should come and stay with us next summer_. 

Harry laughed at Draco's outrage, startling Hedwig. He gave her some more bacon and stroked her, before she flew off for the owlery and he went back to his letter. Alchemy section. Well, at least he had somewhere more specific to look this time. Suddenly the whole thing didn't seem so daunting. He decided to celebrate by going flying for the morning. 

Harry ended up staying out far longer than he should have. He hadn't flown since the Quidditch match in November and had forgotten how much he missed it, although he probably would've enjoyed anything that got him out of the library. The snowy grounds were peaceful and beautiful, and he lost track of time as he flew around thinking. 

Now that they had an idea of where to look for Flamel, Harry couldn't seem to find the motivation to continue looking. He told himself that Draco and Hermione would be back in a few days, and he'd be able to research a lot better with them alongside him. It all seemed rather unimportant in comparison to what he'd learned from Snape in the last couple of days. As disconcerting as it was to find out that his best friend's dad probably hated him for something he couldn't help, it was what Snape had told about his own mum that he kept dwelling on. Neither of his parents had seemed so human as when Snape had been telling him about his mum. It was all well and good for Hagrid to tell him his parents were brave and brilliant, but it paled in comparison to learning that Harry's favourite dessert had been his mother's too.

Harry was dwelling on this when he noticed a figure moving across the frozen grounds. What was Quirrell doing going into the Forbidden Forest? Harry had just made up his mind to follow him in when he heard his name.

“Harry! Oi, Harry!” 

Wheeling his broom around, Harry saw Hagrid waving at him from in front of his cabin. Harry glanced over his shoulder, but Quirrell had disappeared into the forest. He grunted in frustration and took off for Hagrid.

“Hi, Hagrid,” he said as he dismounted.

“Harry! I've been waiting for yeh to come visit me. Come and have a cuppa.” 

Harry followed Hagrid into his cabin. Fang came bounding up to him barking. Harry went to pat him, but the dog ignored Harry, looking past him. “Draco's not here, Fang.” Fang gave a few sniffs in the air behind Harry before trailing back inside with his head down.

Hagrid chuckled. “Fang's taken a shine to Draco. Not that he don't like you, o' course.”

Harry grinned back at him. “But it's not as much fun when I don't care how much he drools on my robes?”

“Aye, that might have a bit to do with it. Or maybe he just smells better to a dog. They say animals have a way of tellin' good folk from bad. Draco must be made of better stuff than his old man, if Fang's to be trusted.”

Harry had an uncomfortable reminder of what Snape had told him of Draco's dad the night before, and quickly changed the subject. “So are you having a good break?”

“Not much of a break when the Weasley twins are still around trying to get into places they shouldn't be, and half the staff off home,” Hagrid grumbled as he poured them both a small bucket of tea. 

“Like the third flood corridor?” Harry tried for an innocent tone.

“To hear Filch tell it, they're spending all their time there. Course, I told him he should try keeping them away from the Forbidden Forest before he complains.”

“Do many students try to sneak in there?” Harry tried a different tack.

“Nah, most are too put off by the creatures that live in there, aren't they?”

“What about teachers?” Harry thought of Quirrell. Why would the Defence teacher need to go into the forest?

“Teachers? Well, there's old Kettleburn, looking for something for his Care of Magical Creatures classes. Why do you ask?” Hagrid looked at him suspiciously.

“Oh, er, just that I met Snape in there,” Harry said.

“Well, he goes in there for Potions ingredients, don't he? Not to fly around where he shouldn't be. Yeah, I know what you and Draco got up to, don't you worry. Lookin' to be as big a trouble-maker as yer dad, are yeh?” Hagrid frowned at him, but Harry could see the corners of his mouth twitching under his beard. 

Harry ignored it. “But no other teachers go there?”

“Nah, got no reason to, do they? I go in, o' course. Lots o' interesting creatures in that forest. Thestrals – domesticated the herd meself – and some of the centaurs will usually come and have a chat. Never try to get a straight answer out o' them centaurs, Harry. Can't be done. That Firenze is a bit easier to talk to than the others though.”

Harry was so interested in the creatures living in the Forest that he forgot to probe Hagrid any further about Quirrell. Which was probably for the best, he reflected on his way back to the castle. He didn't want to have Hagrid accusing him of paranoia. Not when he didn't have any actual proof.


	6. In Which Draco Returns and Harry Has Show and Tell

The rest of the holidays seemed to drag by to Harry. He spent his nights wandering the castle under his Cloak, though kept his promise to Snape not to look for the Mirror again. He gained an excellent knowledge of the castle, including some very handy secret passages in the dungeons. He even found a painting of a snake not far from Snape's office. It had refused to speak to Harry when he was wearing his Cloak, preferring to sunbake on the riverside rock in the painting, but once he removed the Cloak the snake turned out to be very chatty. It turned out to be called Ollie, of all things, and he loved gossiping to Harry about the comings and goings in the castle. Harry dropped by most nights he was out exploring. Apart from the novelty of befriending a painting of a snake, Harry was amused by Ollie's hatred of Mrs Norris.

Harry spent his mornings finishing up his holiday homework, and even read ahead a few chapters in his textbooks. Afternoons were spent flying, or visiting Hedwig or Hagrid. Harry continued to try to subtly question Hagrid about Quirrell, but feared asking him anything out right again, as Hagrid hadn't taken it well last time he did that. 

All in all, it was a relief when break was over and Harry's friends returned to Hogwarts. Harry had just showered after one last fly around the empty grounds, and returned to find his dorm full once again. 

“Finally! Where have you been?” Draco demanded at once. 

“Er, showering. Didn't know my presence was that vital for you guys to get unpacked,” Harry smirked. 

“Draco just missed his boyfriend, that's all,” drawled Blaise, to the amusement of the Vince and Greg. Theo was reading on his bed and took no notice. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I'm so terribly sorry for wanting to see someone who can talk about something other than how his latest stepfather is going to bribe him, Zabini.”

“Latest? How many have you had?” Harry was shocked, though he tried not to show it. Aunt Petunia had always taken a very hard view on divorce. Only magic and vandalism were worse in her eyes. 

“This new one is Mother's seventh husband. My father was her second,” Blaise replied in a bored tone. 

“She's been married _seven times_?” Harry asked.

“Well, her husbands keep dying,” Draco sniggered. Harry didn't like the sound of that. Neither did Blaise, apparently.

“So, Harry, have you been bored without us?” Blaise gave up on unpacking and sprawled out on his bed.

“Not really,” Harry said evasively. He'd considered telling Blaise and Theo what he'd discovered over Christmas, but had decided to just tell Draco. And maybe Hermione, later.

“Like you weren't going crazy here, all by yourself,” said Draco scornfully.

“Not really,” Harry said again. “Come on, we should go to dinner.”

They made their way to the Great Hall, where the girls joined them at the table. Harry was mostly quiet as he listened to the others talking about Christmas with their families. 

“Are you okay, Harry? You're quieter than usual,” Tracey said quietly.

“What? Oh, I'm fine. Just, you know, don't really have anything to add to the conversation,” Harry replied. When Tracey's face filled with pity, he changed the subject. “Hey, you still interested in Muggles? I've got something for you, back in my room.” 

“Er, sure, okay. What is it?” Tracey pushed her glasses up her nose. 

“Some Muggle money. My relatives sent it to me and I don't want it, thought you might like it.”

Harry spent the rest of dinner talking about Muggle money with Tracey, with Theo joining in. He was amused by how interested they were in the concept of bankcards. 

“So, you just swipe a card and your money goes to the shop?” Theo was asking as they got up from the table after dinner.

“Pretty much. I think there's kind of a delay sometimes,” Harry said. He didn't want to admit he was a little fuzzy on the details himself. “Look, there's Hermione, I better go say hello.”

Harry made his way over to the Gryffindors gratefully. He spent a few minutes catching up with Hermione and Neville. After glancing around and seeing that Theo and Tracey had thankfully left the hall, Harry said his goodbyes and headed off for the dungeons. He'd only taken a few steps into the Entrance Hall when someone grabbed his arm.

Harry looked around in alarm. “Bloody hell, Draco, stop doing that!”

“Jumpy little thing, aren't you?” Draco laughed. 

“Whatever. Clearly nothing I say is going to stop you from molesting me,” Harry grumbled. 

“Probably not, no,” said Draco complacently. 

Harry glared at him as they fell into step. “So did you have a reason for waiting for me? Other than giving me a heart attack for your own amusement?”

“What? Oh, yes. I felt we should talk somewhere the others couldn't hear us,” Draco replied. 

“Right. Well, if you're talking about Flamel, can it wait until tomorrow? I told Hermione I'd meet her after classes tomorrow, and I don't want to say everything twice.”

“Fine. But I want to hear you've made some amazing discovery in the library.”

“Er, no. But I do have something to show you.” When Draco looked at him expectantly, Harry laughed. “You'll need to wait until the others have gone to bed. It's not something I want everyone knowing.”  


********

  
Draco hadn't enjoyed being told he had to wait to see what Harry had for him, and spent the rest of the night writing a letter to his mother. Harry had sniggered and found the fifty pence piece to give to Tracey. She'd thanked Harry and then rushed off to show it to Theo. Harry laughed and joined Pansy and Daphne chatting on one of the common room couches until they eventually went to bed.

Harry wandered into his dorm and found the others all asleep. He pulled his Cloak out from the bottom of his trunk and put it on before walking over to Draco's bed, which had light seeping out through the cracks in the closed curtains.

“Draco!” Harry whispered. 

“Finally felt like showing me your oh-so-important discovery, did you?” Draco's peevish voice came through the darkness.

Harry snorted and yanked back the curtain. Draco was sitting propped against his headboard, reading the book on chess strategy that Harry had given him for Christmas. He made a show of ignoring Harry before placing his bookmark in the book and looking up.

“Harry?” Draco frowned in confusion.

Unable to resist, Harry carefully pulled back his hood so that one of his eyes was visible. 

“Argh!” Draco dropped his book and fell off the other side of the bed. Harry smothered his laughs with his hand as he heard Blaise stirring.

“What is it?” Blaise asked groggily.

Draco had picked himself off and was sitting back on his bed. “Nothing. Just a nightmare. I was married to your mother.”

“Piss off,” Blaise groaned as he yanked his curtains shut.

Draco looked at Blaise's bed for a few seconds before turning his gaze somewhere to the right of Harry's shoulder. “Harry? What have you done?”

Harry slowly lowered his hood all the way to his shoulders. Draco gaped at his floating head.

“Finally made you speechless, apparently,” Harry whispered. He quickly whipped the Cloak off and sat at the end of Draco's bed. 

Draco tugged the curtain shut again. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you're thinking an Invisibility Cloak, then yes, according to Snape,” Harry replied smugly.

“Wow!” Draco ran his hand over the smooth fabric wonderingly before his head snapped up. “Wait, _Snape_ knows you have this?”

“Er, yeah.” Harry thought about telling Draco how Snape had found him at the Mirror of Erised. “I'll explain later. Sorry, but it's kind of a long story.”

Draco shrugged. “Doesn't matter. What matters is you giving me a go with that.”

Harry grinned. “Thought you might want to try it out. Come on, it'll fit us both easily.”

They got off the bed and Harry flung the Cloak over the both of them. Like he said, it covered them both, although they had to walk slowly.

“Where are we going?” Draco whispered in Harry's ear. 

Harry shuddered a bit at the ticklish sensation. “Wherever you want, I just need you to meet someone first.”

“How am I supposed to meet someone when we're both invisible?” Draco shot back.

“You'll see,” said Harry evasively as he led Draco out into the silent school. 

Draco was silent until he saw they were nearing Snape's office. “Potter, I swear to Merlin if you think Snape's office is some big revelation, I'll-”

“Shut up, he'll think you're being rude.”

“Who, Snape? He'll likely agree with me before giving the both of us _another_ detention.”

Harry stopped and spun around under the Cloak so that he was nose to nose with Draco, who went slightly crossed-eyed as he tried to focus on Harry in the dark. “Not Snape. Now, be quiet while I introduce you.”

“Introduce me?”

“Shh! He really doesn't like this Cloak, so we need to take it off. Which means _you_ need to stop talking, got it?” Harry glared at Draco until he nodded sullenly.

Harry double-checked there wasn't anyone else in the corridor before he pulled the Cloak off them and walked over to Ollie's painting. 

“ _Hi, Ollie_ ,” he said. 

Ollie raised his head slowly. “ _Good evening, Harry_.”

“ _Ollie, this is my friend, Draco_. Draco, this is Ollie,” Harry said as he turned to Draco, who was staring at him open-mouthed. “What?”

“You – You're a Parselmouth!” Draco's eyes were so wide Harry worried they'd pop out. 

“I'm a what?” 

“You're a Parselmouth. You speak Parseltongue. You can talk to snakes and you never told me!” Draco's voice started to rise out of its previous whisper. 

“Well, yeah. Can't you? I thought it was just a wizard thing,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head emphatically. “No, no it's not. I mean, you need to be a wizard to be a Parselmouth, but it's extremely rare.”

Harry frowned. “But how can I speak another language when I don't know I'm doing it?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not the one who can speak it!” Draco threw up his hands. “Anyway, I think it's getting annoyed at you ignoring it.”

“What?” Harry looked back to find Ollie was looking at him coldly. “Oh, er, right. _Sorry, Ollie. I didn't realise I was speaking another language, and so couldn't tell Draco that and now he's shocked_.”

Ollie tilted his head to the side. “ _He looks angry to me_.”

Harry laughed. “ _That's kinda how he shows shock. He's not really angry though_.”

“ _Your friend is passionate, then, Harry_ ,” said Ollie.

“ _Yeah, I guess_.”

“What are you saying?” Draco cut in.

“He's saying you're passionate.”

Draco frowned at him. “Right. What kind of a name is Ollie, anyway?” 

“ _Er, he wants to know what kind of name Ollie is. For a snake, I think he means_ ,” Harry repeated apologetically.

“ _Ollie is not my full name, Harry. It is Olamide Haben Makkonen. It means proud king living in prosperity_.”

Draco nodded when Harry repeated this to him. “Well, that's all right then. That's a proper name for a snake. Why'd he tell you his name was Ollie?”

“ _Draco likes your name. He wants to know why you told me you were called Ollie_.”

“ _I didn't think you'd be able remember it all_.”

“He didn't - hey!”

“What?”

“He didn't think I'd be able to remember it all!” 

Draco's eyes widened in glee. “You just got insulted by a _painting_ of a snake!”

“ _What is he saying_?” Ollie asked.

“ _He's laughing at me getting insulted by a painting_ ,” Harry muttered, shooting a glare at Draco, who was now holding both hands to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“ _Tell him to start comporting himself like a Slytherin. What if Professor Snape was to walk by and see him like this_?” Ollie managed to sound both outraged and amused, which Harry privately thought was quite a feat for a painting of a snake. He repeated the admonition to Draco who sobered immediately.

“ _That's better. Now, Harry, I've got to go meet up with a charlatan of a snake-charmer in the Divination Tower. But I feel I should warn you that Peeves is floating around the dungeons tonight_.”

“ _Got it. Have fun getting charmed_.”

“ _He's never managed it yet, but his efforts amuse me_.” Ollie slithered out of his frame, muttering about idiots with non-magical flutes. 

Harry grinned at Draco. “He likes you.”

“Did he say that?”

“No, but if he doesn't like someone he usually tells me how he'd like to kill and eat them. You know, if he could get out of his painting.”

“You have the oddest taste in friends,” Draco said after a pause. 

“Including yourself in that, are you?”

“Of course not. I'm the exception that proves the rule,” said Draco haughtily. 

“Git.”

“Prat.”

“Shut up or you can walk back to the dorms by yourself, Malfoy,” said Harry as he swung the Cloak back over himself.

“No! Damn it, Potter!” Draco brought his arms up and started trying to feel where Harry had disappeared to. “Where the hell are you?”

Harry ducked under his arms and laughed. “Not even close!”

Draco growled and spun around, arms still outstretched. He started advancing on Harry who laughed as he started to back away. “I'll make you pay for this, you prat, just you wait.”

“Have to catch me first,” Harry replied and stuck his tongue out, even though Draco couldn't see it. Then he froze. He was sure he'd heard footsteps, heavier than Draco's. “Someone's coming!”

Draco stopped and glared at the wall to Harry's left. “Nice try, but I'm not falling for it. Just because I was about to-”

Harry leapt forward and pulled Draco under the Cloak before covering his mouth with his hand. Draco struggled, forcing Harry to wrap his other hand around Draco's torso, and pin him against himself. Despite Draco's height advantage, Harry managed to hold him still and whisper in his ear. “Draco, _shut up_! There's someone coming, can't you hear them?”

The two of them stood still for a while, twined together underneath the Cloak as they strained to listen in the dark. Then Draco wrenched his arms free and dragged Harry's hand from his mouth. “Potter, your paranoia is reaching new heights. There's no one here, so can you kindly let me go now?”

Harry frowned, looking down the corridor. “I could've sworn I heard something... Footsteps...”

“Mine, perhaps?” Draco finally twisted free and faced Harry.

“They sounded different from yours,” Harry said uncertainly.

“Echoes, Potter. Honestly!” 

“Or Peeves, Ollie warned me he was down in the dungeons tonight.”

“And when was the last time Peeves had footsteps?”

“Oh, right. Well, at least we don't have detention?” Harry tried a winning smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on, let's get out of here. Just because you were wrong this time doesn't mean that Peeves isn't floating around. Where to?”

Harry grinned. “I'll show you some secret tunnels I've found.”  


********

  
They emerged sometime later on the top of the Astronomy Tower, having come up the secret staircase Harry had discovered.

“Holy hell, Harry, you really weren't bored without us!” Draco panted. “Though I'm not making any such statements about your sanity just yet.”

Harry laughed breathlessly. “I told you I'd found some useful shortcuts.”

“That's an understatement. Getting to Astronomy classes are going to be a breeze from now on.” Draco leaned against the parapets in satisfaction. 

“You're not going to tell everyone about this, are you? Especially the Parseltongue?” 

“Please, do you take me for a Hufflepuff? No, I've no intention of telling anyone. I like being the only one in on your secrets.”

Harry grinned. “Good, 'cause I've got a few more things to tell you.”

“Excellent. Carry on.”

It took Harry the better part of an hour to fill in Draco on everything he'd discovered over Christmas break, as Draco kept interjecting with his own theories about things. The Invisibility Cloak was declared to be immensely valuable if it had indeed belonged to Harry's father, as they didn't usually last more than a few years in such good condition. 

Draco had initially scoffed at the thought of Snape being friends with anyone, but listened with a slight smile on his face as Harry told him what he'd learned about his mother. The Mirror caught Draco's attention, and he wondered aloud what he might have seen in it, but agreed with Snape that it sounded pretty dangerous. 

Harry felt slightly guilty as he left out what Snape had told him about Mr Malfoy, but honestly didn't know how to ask his best friend if his father was prejudiced. And he didn't like the idea of going back on his word to Snape, in any case. He quickly changed the subject by mentioning seeing Quirrell going into the Forbidden Forest. Draco agreed that it was suspicious, but didn't know what it might mean. 

“So that's it, then? No other big revelations?” Draco finally said. They were sitting in the shadows of the parapets, hiding from a couple of older students who were off snogging around the corner. 

“Not really. You've met Ollie and I've shown you the secret passages I've found. We could go look for some more some other night, if you like.”

“Sounds interesting. Can't hurt, in any case.”

“Great. We should get going, don't want to sleep in on the first day of class,” said Harry as he stood up. He offered a hand to Draco. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Fang misses you terribly, you should go visit him sometime this week so he can stop pining over you.”

“Prat,” Draco glowered as he stood up, ignoring Harry's hand.

“Hey, it's not my fault Fang loves you,” Harry laughed as he swung the Cloak over the both of them. 

“I never would have met that bloody dog if it wasn't for you,” grumbled Draco. 

“You were the one who said I wasn't to be trusted at Hagrid's on my own, so technically-”

“Technically it's still all your fault.”

“Er, no, it really isn't.”

They argued the point all the way back to the common room. 

“You might be a git, but I'm glad you're back,” Harry finally said, giving Draco a bump.

Draco nudged him back. “Me too.”


	7. In Which Our Trio Get Into a Sartorial Debate and Become Stalkers

By the time Harry and Draco got to the library the next afternoon, Hermione was already ensconced at a table, surrounded by piles of books. 

“How can you have this much homework already?” Draco asked as he slid onto a seat.

“What? Oh, well, I'm still trying to track down Flamel, aren't I?” Hermione said. She marked her place in her book and looked up. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi. Uh, about Flamel-” Harry started.

“You didn't tell her?” Draco interrupted incredulously.

“Tell me what?” Hermione snapped. 

Draco gave Harry a withering look before answering Hermione. “Potter here had a breakthrough on Flamel at Christmas, but apparently he didn't feel the need to tell you.” Draco gently pried the book out of Hermione's hands. “Although, if you like your mail to be easily legible and non-insulting, you should count yourself lucky.”

“Would you shut up about that bloody letter!” Harry glared at Draco, then sighed. “I'm sorry, Hermione. I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure if Hedwig would be able to find you in the Muggle world. Or if she'd freak out your parents.”

“Of course she'd be able to find Hermione, owls can find anyone you send a letter to, even if you don't know where they are,” sneered Draco. 

“Well how was I supposed to know that, no one told me that-” retorted Harry.

“Boys!” They both looked at Hermione. “Draco, I'm sure Harry's letter wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be. And Harry, I'll forgive you this time, as some of these books have been fascinating. But for future reference, feel free to send Hedwig to me any time. My parents won't mind.”

“Right. Okay.” Harry handed her Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog Card. “Ta da.”

As Hermione read the card, Draco smirked at Harry. “You know, as far as big revelations go, this one leaves something to be desired.”

“I'll be more dramatic next time. Thunderbolts and lightning, maybe,” Harry laughed, before it was cut off by Hermione giving out a squeal and darting off amongst the shelves of books. They looked after her. “Or do something like that.”

“That works,” Draco nodded.

Hermione returned and slammed a thick book down on the table and turned to the index. 

“What's that?” Harry asked. 

“The second volume in a series I started reading before Christmas. I was going to borrow this later this week... Here! Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!”

She looked up expectantly. Draco sucked in his breath excitedly, but Harry looked at her blank. “What's that?”

Draco and Hermione rolled their eyes. 

“Honestly, Potter!”

Hermione shot Draco a look before reading out to Harry. “' _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_'There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._ '”

Harry looked at her in excitement. “So this is what Quirrell's after! No wonder, if he's terrified of that vampire tracking him down or whatever.”

Draco nodded. “He'd finally be able to stop smelling of garlic, if he's got the Elixir of Life to protect him.”

Hermione piped up. “Of course! Dumbledore and Flamel are obviously old friends-”

“ _Really_ old friends,” cut in Draco.

“So he's asked Dumbledore to look after the Stone. They must have known Quirrell was going to try to break into Gringotts, and figured Hogwarts was safer,” Hermione finished.

“Too bad Quirrell's working here,” said Draco. “I mean, that's just a terrible strategy.”

“They mustn't know it's Quirrell then!” Harry said. “We need to warn them.”

“They won't believe us though,” said Hermione dejectedly.

Harry nodded gloomily. “Even Hagrid didn't believe me about Quirrell being up to something, and he knows about the Stone _and_ what's guarding it.”

“Maybe a teacher, then? Professor McGonagall's Deputy Headmistress and my Head of House, I could ask her for a meeting,” offered Hermione. 

Harry and Draco looked at each other sceptically. 

“What?” she asked. 

“No offence, but no. She wouldn't believe you, and she certainly wouldn't bother the Headmaster with this,” said Draco.

“What about Snape?” Harry asked.

“Snape? He'd give us detention for wasting his time!” Hermione snapped.

“No, he wouldn't! I can talk to him! Unlike your scary as all hell Head of House!” Harry snapped back.

“You think McGonagall's scary? What about Snape, swooping around in his black robes, terrifying anyone who steps foot in his classroom?” 

“You think Snape's scary because his robes billow behind him? That's called having a good tailor and a flair for the theatrical. McGonagall's robes have bloody _spiked shoulder pads_!” Draco cried.

Harry laughed. “Those are pretty cool, actually.”

The others turned and glared at him for a second, before they started laughing too.

“This is ridiculous. What we need is some proof,” Draco finally said. 

“Agreed. I think we should move our research to the Stone itself, see if it has any weaknesses,” said Hermione.

“And keep an eye on Quirrell,” added Draco.

“Obviously. But in the meantime, we should get to dinner.” Harry stood up. “On the way, Hermione, let me tell you a story about Snape, and how my mum made him read Jane Austen.”

“What?” Hermione gaped up at him. 

Harry hooked his arm through hers as he started the tale. Draco snickered and followed them out of the library.  


********

  
Harry and Draco made their way to the library on Saturday morning to continue researching the Philosopher's Stone with Hermione. Neither was looking forward to it, as they hadn't found anything helpful since the day they learned who Flamel was.

“I think I'd actually rather be doing my homework,” Draco grumbled. 

Harry laughed. “Don't let Hermione hear you say that. She'd either get cross with you for getting sick of research, or become excited at the mention of homework.”

Draco sniggered. “Which would be worse, do you reckon?”

“The first. More chance of violence.”

They were both laughing as they entered the library, earning an immediate glare from Madam Pince. They hastened over to their usual table, where Hermione was already waiting for them. There was a much smaller pile of books in front of her than usual.

“Have we run out of books, then?” Harry asked as he sat down.

“Of course not I just thought...” Hermione looked uncomfortable as she took a breath. “I've been thinking all week how you went to Snape to ask about your mother.”

“Yes...” Harry didn't know where she was going with this.

“And how you got so entranced by the Mirror of Erised...”

Harry hadn't mentioned that to her. He glared at Draco, who looked back calmly.

“And it all got me thinking: you don't know anything about your family, do you? So, I got every book in the library that mentions you,” Hermione said in a rush. 

“I... What?” Harry had slowly grown used to being recognised by strangers, but the idea of him being in library books was something he hadn't considered before. Probably an oversight on his part, given the way Draco was currently rolling his eyes. “Okay, so I'm in library books. Go on.”

Hermione looked at him nervously before beginning. “Alright. The details are a bit vague in the books, so bear with me. Your parents went into hiding while your mother was pregnant with you. I'm not sure where, as the books don't mention if they moved around or not. All I know is, you were born while they were in hiding. It seems like no one knew where they were, until You-Know-Who attacked them. On Halloween in 1981, he found their cottage in Godric's Hollow.”

Harry shook his head. “Godric's Hollow... Never heard of it.”

“From what I understand, it's a pretty small village, but does have a larger than average proportion of magical residents. Or at least, it did,” Hermione said. Draco nodded.

“Okay, so he found them and killed them,” Harry had to take a deep breath before continuing. “But why were they in hiding? Did a lot of people do that back then?”

“Not a lot, no. Mostly people who thought the Dark Lord was after them,” said Draco.

“Why would Voldemort have been after them?”

Draco winced at the name. “They'd probably angered him in some way. Maybe they were even some of the people who fought him.”

“Or it could just have been because of Harry's mother,” said Hermione quietly.

“My mum?”

“She was a Muggle-born, and You-Know-Who and his followers hated them,” she explained.

“Oh, right. I guess that makes sense,” said Harry. Hermione glared at him. “I didn't mean it like that! God, Hermione, why would I agree with that? I just meant that I'd heard... Well, Snape told me that there are some pure-bloods who don't like Muggle-borns. Or even half-bloods, sometimes.”

Harry carefully didn't look at Draco as he said this, but Hermione had no such qualms. “Is that true?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably. “I... Well, yes. I mean, not to the extent of the Dark Lord. But, yes, some people think like that.” When Hermione continued to glare at him, he raised his hands. “Not me! Why would I be friends with either of you if I hated people like you?”

When Hermione didn't look convinced, Harry spoke up. “From what Snape said, I think it's like how Muggles can be racist. Only the real nutters get violent or anything.”

Hermione nodded, then narrowed her eyes when Draco frowned briefly. “What?”

“My, er, my father can be... He believes in bloody purity. He's, uh, not very happy that I'm friends with you, Hermione. He wasn't all that thrilled when he heard about you either, Harry, but he doesn't say that much about you. I think being the Boy-Who-Lived played a part in that, though. I don't know.”

Draco looked so uncomfortable, and Hermione so livid, that Harry jumped in. “Yeah, I er, I sort of knew that already.”

“How? You've never met my father.”

“Well, you both need to promise not to say anything, because he made me promise not to say anything in the first place,” Harry began. When he got two confused nods, he continued. “When I said Snape told me about all this, he may have, er, told me that your dad's like this.”

“He what?” Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“Don't get like that! Please, he told me not to say anything, but since you kinda brought it up... He said your mum wasn't, though,” Harry looked at him hopefully.

Draco's face softened at the mention of his mother. “Well, no. I mean, all her friends are pure-blood, but from things she's said, I think that's more to avoid angering my father. She really would like to meet you, Harry.”

Harry smiled in relief. “I'd like to meet her too. She sounds great from what you've told me.”

Draco smiled back. “She'll like you, I know. Well, maybe not your hair. But you can brush it before you come visit.”

“I _do_ brush my hair! It just refuses to do anything but this,” Harry waved his hand over his hair. “One time it even grew back overnight when my aunt gave me a haircut.”

Draco laughed. “That is a ridiculous example of accidental magic.”

“You wouldn't say that if you saw what she did to my hair.”

Hermione broke in. “Can we get back on topic, please? Don't you want to learn more about your parents, Harry?”

“Yeah, of course. Just not like this. Not from a book. It's just weird, okay?”

“But-”

“Look, Hermione, I appreciate this. But I'd rather hear about my parents from someone who knew them, not a history book!”

“You'd rather ask Snape, you mean?” Hermione frowned.

“Well, maybe Hagrid too, but yeah. They were _friends_ , Hermione. I told you what he's already told me, you think I'd find out stuff like that from a textbook? I'd much rather hear about what my mum was like as a person, not as some historical tragedy.”

“Just your mother?” Draco asked.

“I got the feeling that Snape didn't like my dad. I mean, he only mentioned being friends with my mum.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully as Hermione piped up again. “Don't you think it's a bit cruel to keep asking him about her? I mean, it can't be easy to talk about someone he was once close to like that.”

“What happened to Snape being the scariest person ever? Now you want to protect his feelings?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I just meant-”

Harry interrupted. “God, can we not start that again? Hermione, I'm not going to be bugging the guy constantly. Just, you know, if he offers or something. On Boxing Day I shelled an entire jar of beetles for him as we talked, so it's not like he's not getting anything out of it.”

“But can you trust him?”

“Yes. I've told you that I do.” Harry glowered at her.

“Besides, what would be the point of lying about this?” Draco asked her.

“I guess.”

“Good, that's all settled then,” Draco said brightly. “Are we going to try to find out anything more about the Stone then, or are Harry and I free to go?”

“Let's forget about the Stone for a moment,” said Harry.

“Forget about it?” Hermione looked shocked.

“Yes. It's useless. There haven't been that many made, and nobody who did make one seems to have written much about them, probably so they didn't start getting made by just anyone. We've been going about this all wrong.”

“How so?” Draco asked.

“We should be going after Quirrell.”

“What, follow him around or something?” Hermione asked sceptically.

“Exactly. And break into his office.” Harry leaned back in his chair.

“Break into his office? Do you want to get us expelled?” Draco asked.

“No, of course not. Which is why we're going to continue this conversation outside.” Harry stood up.

“Outside? The same outside that's covered in snow and is cold as hell?” Draco demanded as he and Hermione followed.

“If only we knew someone who was good at conjuring up fires,” sighed Harry.

“But wherever will we get a teacher to use as kindling?” Draco asked in mock concern.

“I guess we'll freeze then,” Harry shook his head sadly.

“Oh, enough, you two. I'll make a fire for us when we get outside. But I am not breaking into a teacher's office!”  


********

  
January went by quickly once they'd agreed to follow Quirrell. Harry and Draco liked it immediately, but it took Hermione longer to warm up to what she saw as an invasion of privacy.

“But he's evil, Hermione. He doesn't deserve privacy,” Draco tried explaining, but it didn't help. It was only when they started to notice just how much time Quirrell spent near the third floor corridor, or heading out into the Forbidden Forest, that she relented and began to enjoy the sneaking around.

They were lucky they were all still quite small. The three of them fit under the Invisibility Cloak easily enough, though it made them walk even slower than when it was just Harry and Draco.

Eventually though, the fun wore off it all. While Quirrell was definitely up to something, all they could see was that he was incredibly interested in the third floor corridor and the Forest. He never actually went into the corridor, and they never followed him into the Forest, as he tended to go there as night was falling. None of them fancied being anywhere near the Forest in the dark.

On top of that, Harry started to get headaches whenever they followed Quirrell.

“They're stress headaches,” Hermione said when he mentioned them after a few weeks. They were sitting in one of the courtyards, huddled around a fire Hermione had conjured.

“What do I have to be stressed about? Well, apart from the Quidditch match, but that isn't until the end of February. And I get the headaches when we're following Quirrell around, not at Quidditch practise,” he pointed out. 

“The stress of being bored out of your mind, perhaps,” said Draco. “Crabbe and Goyle used to give me headaches when I had to listen to them for too long.”

“I don't think this is really the same...” said Hermione.

“No. Because I don't get them when I'm napping in History of Magic. And I doubt you were getting them in the scar you got from Voldemort,” Harry said drily.

“They're in your scar?” Hermione and Draco looked at each other. “Harry...”

“I'm fine, I'll stop moaning,” he said as he straightened up.

“You should go to the infirmary. Pomfrey can give you a pain potion,” suggested Hermione.

“No, they're nothing. Just, I dunno, can we take a break from trailing Quirrell around? He's not very exciting for a villain.”

“I was going to suggest the same thing. I don't think we're going to find out anything this way,” said Hermione. 

“I guess that's it, then. We've no choice but to break into his office now,” said Draco happily.

Harry perked up, but Hermione frowned. “I think we have plenty of other choices.”

“Not if we want to learn anything useful, we don't,” shrugged Draco.

“And we've got my Cloak. It'll be fine. And a lot more exciting than watching him stare at the bloody door of that corridor.”

“Do you two have any idea how much trouble we'll get into if we get caught breaking into a teacher's office?” Hermione asked.

“No. Would it be more or less trouble than if you got caught setting Snape on fire?” Draco shot back.

“That was different! Harry was in danger.”

“Not really. Snape told me that even if I had fallen, one of the teachers would've managed to slow my fall enough so I didn't get hurt too badly,” Harry replied.

“There, you see? Harry's getting headaches now, he's in just as much danger as he was during Quidditch,” Draco chuckled.

“Oh yes, this is exactly like that,” Hermione said.

“Okay, fine. Hermione, you don't want to do it, that's up to you. But Harry and I will be. If you'll excuse us, we've got a break in to plan,” Draco grabbed Harry's arm and made to leave.

“Fine. Fine! But you better know what you're doing,” she said grudgingly.

“It'll be fine. This isn't the first time I've broken into somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I've done this at home before,” said Draco.

“I did the same thing at the Dursleys' all the time,” Harry shrugged when she looked at him.

Hermione sighed. “Why are my friends such criminals? I used to be a good girl...”

Draco grinned. “We've simply been a good influence on you, that's all.”  


********

  
“I think we should enter through the classroom entrance. We could just hide under a desk after class,” whispered Draco.

“But what about Hermione? We don't have Defence with her, and since she's finally agreed to do this, she'd get really cross with us if we did it without her,” replied Harry.

The two of them were sitting at the back of the Defence classroom, ostensibly copying down what Quirrell was telling them about placating irate fairies, but really planning their break in of his office. Harry rubbed his scar distractedly.

“Another headache?” Draco frowned.

“What? No, just a habit I guess. I only get headaches when we follow him around,” Harry said slowly. 

“That's odd,” said Draco.

“Yeah... Never mind. I think we should go in through the window.”

“The window? How?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Remember those things called broomsticks? Thought they might come in handy for this.”

“As in, the broomsticks that first years aren't allowed?”

“So borrow a school broom, then,” said Harry.

“Doesn't change the fact that Hermione's only been on a broom during the flying lessons in which we haven't yet been allowed to go higher than about ten metres,” Draco whispered sourly.

Harry snorted. “Are you serious? Okay, scratch that then. Though if Hermione changes her mind about this, the two of us could do that.”

“I suppose so. So, barring the window, the only options are through this classroom, and the office door itself,” Draco summarised.

“Both have their good and bad points,” sighed Harry. “But I think going directly to the office would be better. Means we only have one door we need to unlock.”

“True. When should we do it?”

“I'll have Quidditch practise everyday until the match on Saturday,” said Harry. “Maybe Sunday?”

Pansy leaned over to them. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Er,” stammered Harry.

“Just planning a celebratory feast in the common room after the match,” Draco lied.

“Oh, that's an excellent idea. I'll pass the word,” Pansy grinned and turned around to talk to Tracey.

Harry smiled gratefully at Draco. “Good thinking.”

“Good thing one of us can think quickly. How can you be so bad at lying?” Draco looked genuinely confused. 

“I can lie!” Harry thought of all the times he'd had to lie to the Dursleys. “I'm just tired. I've had Quidditch practices on top of following you-know-who around.”

Draco narrowed his eyes as he studied Harry. “I sincerely hope that's all it is. A Slytherin who can't lie is an abomination in the eyes of man.”

Harry snorted. “You are such a drama queen.”

“As if you don't love it,” Draco retorted. 

“Git.”

“You still love it, you prat.”


	8. In Which Slytherin has a Party, and Our Trio is Very Much Where They Shouldn't Be

As Harry sat in the changing rooms before the match against Ravenclaw, he felt a lot calmer than before his first match. He was still nervous, but Snape had held him back after Potions the day before to reassure him that his Nimbus would remain jinx free this time. Harry didn't mention to Snape that Hermione had promised to keep an eye on Quirrell during the match, ready to set him alight if need be. Somehow he didn't think Snape would be pleased to learn he had been a guinea pig for this plan. 

“Potter!” Harry jerked back to the present to find Flint staring at him. “Your broom better not play up again today.”

“No, it's fine now. And, er, Snape said he'd keep an eye out just in case,” Harry said. It wasn't quite a lie, but he thought Draco would be proud anyway.

“Good. Alright then! Ravenclaw's got a good team this year, but not as good as us. This'll be easier than Gryffindor was. Let's go.”

The Slytherins walked onto the pitch to riotous cheering from the green-clad stand and boos from the rest of the school. The two teams mounted their brooms and took off at Hooch's whistle. Harry flew past the teachers' stand and got a shock. Dumbledore had come to the match, and was sitting in the front row. Harry frowned. Snape must have downplayed the seriousness of what happened to his broom last time for the headmaster to attend this match. Harry was still frowning when he flew past the Slytherin stand and saw two red figures amongst all the green. Hermione and Neville were sitting with his other friends again. 

Harry gave a wave in their direction and then focused on trying to find the Snitch. The Ravenclaw Seeker was at the other end of the pitch, but he didn't appear to have seen anything yet. A cheer went up from the crowd, and Harry looked down to see that Adrian had scored the first points of the match. Harry did a quick loop in celebration, and when he straightened up again, he caught sight of a flash of gold down the far end of the pitch and took off in pursuit. 

He may have spotted it quicker than the last match, but the Snitch was more evasive in this match. Harry and the Ravenclaw Seeker pursued it for ten minutes before Harry eventually caught it, and both teams had managed to score twice in the meantime. 

“Slytherin win one hundred and eighty to twenty!” Jordan's voice rang out over the pitch as Slytherins descended on it. Harry looked up at the staff stands in time to see Snape give him a short nod, before Dumbledore leaned over to speak to him, and Harry was engulfed by his cheering housemates. 

This time, Harry was able to join in on the team's elation in the changing rooms. When they eventually made their way outside, Harry was pulled into a hug by a beaming Draco. 

“You did it!” Draco squeezed him before letting him go. Behind him were the smiling faces of Pansy, Millicent, Theo and Blaise. 

Gemma looked back at him. “I heard you were organising the after-party today, Harry?”

“Yeah, Draco and I are going to the kitchens now,” Harry grinned. 

“Excellent. You might want to take someone else to help you carry everything,” Gemma smiled as she skipped off to catch up with Terence. 

“I'll come,” Pansy volunteered. “I'd like to know how to get into the kitchens. You should come too, Milly.”

Millicent growled. “I told you, my name is _Millicent_.”

“Sure thing,” Pansy said sweetly as she linked her arm in Millicent's and strode off. 

“We'll see you at the party,” Theo said, before setting off with Blaise. 

“Don't let them start the party without us!” Draco yelled after them, before grabbing Harry and dragging him back to the castle. 

“I can walk on my own, you know,” Harry tried to pull his arm back. 

“Potter, you might be brilliant on a broom, but back on the ground, you're quite uncoordinated,” Draco tossed back. 

“Am not!” Harry stumbled slightly as he yanked harder at his hand. 

“And this is why you need me to help you around,” sniggered Draco. 

“That was your fault, you git,” Harry grumbled. 

“I think you'll find it was yours,” Draco replied, and gave Harry's arm a tug just as Harry gave up his fight. With the resistance gone, Draco landed flat on his back, taking Harry with him and knocking his Nimbus out of his hands. “Oof! Get off me you prat!”

“Sorry, I'm too uncoordinated to manage that,” Harry laughed and played dead, letting his full weight lie on top of Draco. 

Draco narrowed his eyes then jabbed Harry in his side. When Harry recoiled, Draco grabbed his hands and flipped them over. “Yield,” he panted, looking down at Harry. He glared back and tried to struggle, but Draco had all his weight pressing on Harry's hands.

“Fine, you win. Now get off me!”

Draco smirked as he rolled off him and got up. “Come on, the girls will be waiting for us.”

Harry clambered to his feet and grabbed his broomstick. “Oh, Draco?”

“What?”

“You've got dirt on you.”

“Where?” Draco spun around, inspecting his robes, as Harry laughed and set off for the castle. Draco brushed his robes down then took off after Harry. “Seriously, my clothes never suffered like this before I met you.”

“Yeah, but you never had this much fun before you met me,” Harry countered. “Now you have company when you get up to mischief.”

“This is true. Perhaps I'll keep you around after all,” Draco replied, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders. 

“Cheers,” laughed Harry. 

When they reached the Entrance Hall, Pansy was serenely inspecting her nails and ignoring Millicent, who was glaring at her. 

“Took long enough,” Millicent grumbled. 

“Good thing we're worth the wait then,” Draco said blithely, as he led them to the kitchen corridor. Harry tickled the pear, and they entered the vast kitchen. Within seconds, they were surrounded by a small swarm of house-elves. 

“What is sirs and misses wanting?” squeaked the leader. 

“A celebratory feast,” Draco replied.

“For the entire House, please,” added Harry as the elves scampered off. “They really are cute, aren't they?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Harry's obsessed with house-elves.”

Millicent shrugged. “They are pretty cute.”

Draco and Pansy stared at her, but Harry grinned. The group of elves returned, and handed them each two large bags of food. 

“Will sirs and misses be wanting anything else?” the head elf asked Harry.

“No, this is great, thanks!” Harry replied. The four of them left as the elves starting bowing in farewell. 

When they entered the common room they found most of the house crowded in. A cheer went up when people realised that they'd returned with the promised feast. A group of seventh years came forward to take the food off them, and after congratulating Harry on catching the Snitch, they levitated the food over to the tables they'd conjured up. Within seconds, the food had been laid out, and people converged on it. 

Harry greatly enjoyed his first Slytherin party. Someone had unearthed an old gramophone, which was playing what Pansy told Harry was the Weird Sisters. As people began to get tired of the food, most of the furniture was stacked along the walls and an impromptu dance floor took shape in the centre of the room. 

“I don't dance,” Harry said in alarm, as Daphne grabbed his hand. 

“Relax, I'm a good teacher. Just do what I do,” she smiled back. Resigned, Harry followed her onto the dance floor. 

It wasn't that bad, Harry told himself. Daphne didn't seem to want him to waltz or anything. Most people were just waving their arms around as they sang along. Still, Harry felt relieved when the rest of his friends joined them. Dancing with Daphne was kind of awkward; it was much more fun in a group. Plus it meant Harry could copy what Draco was doing, who turned out to be a good dancer. 

Eventually, Harry needed a break. He tapped Draco on the shoulder. “I'm getting a drink, I'll be back soon.”

“I'll come with you,” Draco said. 

They made their way to the one remaining table, where there were jugs of cold pumpkin juice along with the remaining food. They had to step around Gemma and Terence, who were making out next to the table. Harry and Draco quickly grabbed their drinks and moved away. 

“They could at least go somewhere a little more private,” Harry muttered.

Draco laughed. “I don't think they're thinking too clearly at the moment.” At Harry's questioning look, he explained. “The older years have been drinking Firewhisky. Haven't you noticed?”

“No. That explains a lot, though,” Harry said, as he gazed around the room. Now that he took notice, there were a lot of older students snogging, though most were in corners or on the remaining couches. There were also a lot who seemed to have disappeared entirely. 

“I imagine the common room will be very quiet tomorrow morning,” Draco smirked. 

“Oh yeah.”

As their laughter died down, Harry caught a snatch of conversation behind them.

“Well, of course I wasn't happy when he was sorted in here. But he's turned out to be quite good at Quidditch, so I can't complain, I guess.”

“True, but he's still only a half-blood. We have _standards_.”

“He could be a Mudblood for all I care, as long as he keeps getting that Snitch.”

Harry peeked over his shoulder to find a group of seventh years standing next to the fire. Luckily they all had their backs to him, and hadn't noticed him standing there. 

Draco grabbed Harry's arm. “Ignore them, come on.”

Harry allowed himself to be led away from the group by the fire. “I can't just ignore them, Draco. You heard what they said.”

Draco led Harry to the shadows next to a cupboard and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. “Yes, I heard them. I don't really know what to say, except that not everyone thinks that way. Harry, everyone in our year likes you, they don't give a crap what your blood status is. And it's the same with the Quidditch team.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Yeah, I know that. It's just, you know, not exactly fun to hear that people hate me for something I can't help. I get enough of that at the Dursleys'.”

“They hate you for being a half-blood?”

Harry laughed humourlessly. “No, for being magical. Or a 'freak', in their words. Only instead of just talking, they lock me up in a cupboard and treat me like a house-elf to try to drive the magic out of me.”

When Harry saw Draco's expression, he thought he'd said too much. He'd never told anyone just how bad it was at the Dursleys'.

“They lock you up? In a _cupboard_?” Draco whispered, his eyes wide.

“Yeah. Well, not since I got my Hogwarts letter. Just forget it, okay? And please don't tell anyone what I just said,” Harry added desperately.

“Of course I won't tell anyone, but I'm certainly not going to forget it. I'm going to write to Mother, and arrange for you to spend the summer at our place,” Draco said determinedly.

Harry smiled weakly. “Thanks. Just don't tell her why, if you can?”

Draco tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Please. I'm perfectly capable of subtlety. And if I'm not, I'll go to Snape and demand to be re-sorted.”

Harry laughed and hugged him. “Thanks. But you know, you'd look good in yellow and black.”

Draco made a choking sound and pulled away in disgust. “That was not a visual I needed, Potter. Ugh. No, I'm perfectly happy in green and silver, thank you. Though I do look good in blue...”

Harry laughed again, then grabbed Draco's hand for once. “Come on, let's go join the others.”

They made their way back to where their friends were all still dancing in a circle. Everyone was looking decidedly more dishevelled than they had earlier, and the dancing was getting more wild. Draco grabbed Tracey's hand and started twirling her in a circle as she giggled. Harry was laughing at Daphne and Pansy's efforts to teach him a complicated sort of shimmy, when the music cut off. The laughter and shouts died down into a confused silence.

“Slytherins.” The common room turned as one to find Snape standing in the entrance way, a couple of sixth years standing shamefacedly next to him. They'd obviously been caught out in the hallways. “While I share your joy in our defeat of Ravenclaw, it is now well past curfew for all of you. If you insist on continuing your celebration, do it with less of a cacophony, and keep it within the confines of Slytherin. Anyone found out in the corridors will be given detention with Filch.” Snape paused at the groans that emerged at that, and his eyes swept the crowd. “As for you older students, anyone coming to me tomorrow for a hangover cure will be in for a very unpleasant morning. If you hadn't the foresight to brew your own, perhaps you should join the rest of the impulsive idiots up in Gryffindor.”

When Snape left, the first years all looked at each other and giggled nervously. Someone turned the music back on, but quieter than before, and people started talking again. 

“I think I'm going to go to bed now,” Harry said. 

“Did Snape scare you that badly?” Pansy teased. 

“No, just tired from Quidditch and dancing,” Harry said. “Draco?”

“What? No, I'm – I'm exhausted, actually,” Draco said when he caught the look Harry was giving him. 

When they got into their empty dorm Draco looked at Harry. “Any reason why you've dragged me away from a perfectly good party so early?”

Harry took out his pyjamas as he replied. “Just thought we might need to get to bed sometime before-” He grabbed his watch. “-two o'clock if we're breaking into Quirrell's office tomorrow.”

Draco looked over as he brushed his hair. “Oh. Good point.”

“We still haven't spoken to Hermione about it, and I don't think she'd be very pleased if we slept in instead of telling her the plan.”

Draco shuddered. “No, let's not do that. She's going to be cross enough about this to begin with.”

Harry shrugged. “She'll be fine. It'll all be fine.”

********

The next morning came far too quickly for Harry's liking. He felt like he'd only just gone to sleep when he was awakened by the sounds of movement in the form. Bleary eyed, he groped for his glasses and sat up. Blaise was getting changed into his pyjamas, and looked over when he heard Harry fumbling around.

“Good morning Harry!” Blaise grinned at him. “Have a nice sleep?”

“Uh, yeah. You're only just going to bed now?” Harry groaned as he swung his legs out of bed and scrambled for his slippers. 

Blaise's grin grew wider. “Yep. Spent the night snogging a second year after you ran off to bed with your boyfriend.”

Draco's sleepy chuckle emerged before he did. “I'd consider rephrasing that, Zabini. It makes your bragging seem less impressive.”

Blaise scowled as Harry blushed. He'd found that his friends joked about liking boys just as casually as they joked about liking girls, and was still getting used to it. He'd grown up with the Dursleys treating any mention of homosexuality as being just as freaky and dangerous as magic. Which probably means they're equally wrong about both, he reasoned. Harry grinned as he imagined his aunt and uncle's faces if they ever met a gay wizard.

“You alright there, Harry?” Draco asked as he wrapped himself in his dressing gown. 

“Yeah, why?”

“You just had an odd progression of expressions,” Draco yawned. 

“Oh. Just, er, got a few random flashbacks from my dream,” Harry improvised. 

“Fascinating. If you two don't mind taking this outside, some of us would like to get to sleep,” Blaise drawled.

“Of course. Come on Harry, we mustn't keep Casanova here from his beauty sleep,” Draco smirked.

They got dressed in casual clothing, though they threw their Slytherin cloaks on over the top for extra warmth. Well, one of them was in casual clothing, Harry thought as he belted up his oversized jeans. Draco's idea of a weekend outfit consisted of proper trousers, with a collared shirt under his jumper. 

Draco caught the look Harry was giving him as they left the room. “What? What's wrong with this?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just, do you own _any_ casual clothes?”

Draco sniffed. “These _are_ casual, Potter.”

“Malfoy, your shirt has a collar on it.”

“Your point?”

“Collars aren't casual.”

“Collars aren't casual? Says who? What kind of a stupid rule is that?” Draco demanded.

“It's not a rule, just, you know, most people wear jeans or stuff,” Harry said lamely.

“ _I_ am not _most people_ ,” Draco said in his best haughty voice. “ _I_ am a _Malfoy_. We don't _do_ jeans. Especially if they look like that.” He gestured at Harry's jeans, which admittedly were oversized, faded, and inexpertly mended by Harry.

“Yeah, well, these were Dudley's, okay? I wouldn't choose these,” Harry said in embarrassment.

Draco looked at him for a moment as they entered the Great Hall. “Alright, I'll tell you what. When you visit over summer, we'll go shopping. We'll get you some clothes that actually fit you, and I'll... I'll buy a pair of jeans, if it means that much to you.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah? Cool. While we're at it, we should get you some t-shirts, maybe a hoodie or two...”

Draco shot him a withering look as they sat down at the Slytherin table. “Don't push it, Potter. Mother would have a conniption, and my father would burn any 'hoodie' I brought into the Manor.”

Harry laughed nervously. “Would he really do that?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. He doesn't like anything to do with Muggles, but if we found some jeans Mother approved of we should be fine. She wears Muggle clothing on occasion.”

“So no trackies, then, I take it?” Harry grinned.

Draco looked at him suspiciously. “I don't think I even want to know.”

At that moment, Hermione arrived and sat down next to Draco. “Finally! I've been waiting for you for ages. I was just about to give up and head to the library.”

“Sorry. We had a late night and only just got up,” Harry said as he helped himself to some bacon.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Doing what, exactly? I hope you two weren't roaming the halls the night before we break a whole lot of school rules. We're going to need all our luck for tonight!”

Draco grinned. “Calm down. It was just a party in the common room that ran quite late. And before you ask, yes, Snape knew about it, and no, we didn't get in trouble.”

“Snape let you have a party?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“Yep!” Harry grinned. “He didn't even stop the older students from drinking, not exactly. Still think he's a big, scary bogey man?”

“Of course, since I'm not a Slytherin and he's absolutely _horrible_ to anyone from another house. Not to mention the fact that I don't entirely believe you... In any case, are we still on for tonight?”

Draco looked mildly offended. “Of course. Why on earth would we back out now?”

Hermione shrugged. “What's the plan then?”

Harry and Draco looked at each other. “Er...”

“You haven't come up with a plan yet?” Hermione demanded.

“Have you?” Draco retorted. 

“No, but I'm not the one who's had extensive experience doing this sort of thing,” she replied primly. 

“How about this: we'll come get you from Gryffindor tower at midnight under my Cloak, and go to his office together?” Harry suggested.

Draco looked at him askance. “That's your plan? Maybe you _should_ have gone into Gryffindor.”

Hermione looked confused and offended at that, but Harry just shrugged. “What else is there to plan? We can't have Hermione wandering around without the Cloak in case she gets seen. We'll break in, one of us can be lookout under the Cloak, and the other two can search his office.”

Neither Draco nor Hermione seemed overly pleased with the plan, but in the end they were forced to concede that they couldn't come up with anything better. Hermione left to go to the library, and Harry and Draco finished their breakfast before going to the Quidditch pitch to work off some nerves. They were joined by Millicent and Theo, and ended up playing two to a side until dinner time. 

Finally, it was a quarter to twelve. Harry and Draco put away the Charms essays they'd been working on and slipped out under the Cloak. They didn't come across anyone, teacher or ghost, and were now quite used to walking in sync under the Cloak, though Harry still had a tendency to get tickled by Draco's breath ghosting across his ear.

They came to a stop to the left of the portrait of a fat opera singer Hermione had told the was the Gryffindor entrance. 

“It's still only ten to twelve,” Draco whispered after checking his watch..

“Do you think we should knock?” Harry asked.

Draco chuckled quietly. “I've got a better idea. We're going in.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask how, exactly, they would do that, when he heard footsteps. They looked down the corridor to see a Gryffindor Prefect striding towards the portrait hole. 

“Are you serious? He's bound to notice us go in behind him,” Harry pointed out.

“Have a little faith, Potter,” was Draco's only reply.

They fell silent as the Prefect came over, and Harry saw that it was the older Weasley boy. He grinned when he thought of what Ron would look like if he knew his brother was about to let a couple of Slytherins into the Gryffindor common room. They waited until Weasley passed them, then fell into step behind him. 

“Bangers and mash,” Weasley said to the portrait. Harry could feel Draco shake with silent laughter behind him as the portrait swung open. They quickly stepped in before it could shut behind Weasley, and stopped just to the side of the entrance. Apart from Weasley, who was disappearing up a staircase, the only other people around were a group of older girls gossiping around a fire.

“It's so _red_ ,” Draco whispered.

“Well, our common room's pretty green,” Harry tried to be fair. 

“Yes, but this is really, _really_ red. And it's so...” Draco waved his hand under the Cloak.

Harry sniggered. “Yeah, I like ours more, too. Where do you think Hermione is?”

“Probably in her room trying to get past her idiotic room mates,” Draco said as he pushed Harry over to the windows. “Huh. Bastards get a good view from here.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Duh, it's a tower. Anyway, I just realised that Hermione won't be able to just walk out of here with us. One of those girls is bound to say something to a first year leaving in the middle of the night.”

Draco glanced across at the group by the fire, who showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. “What do we do?”

Footsteps drew their attention to another staircase, and a few seconds later Hermione appeared in her pyjamas and dressing gown. “We stop her from doing anything stupid,” Harry replied, and grabbed Draco's hand as he started walking over to her.

Hermione was standing at the base of the staircase, staring at the older girls. Clearly, she'd had the same thought as Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered. She gave a little squeak and looked to the side with wide eyes. “Hermione! It's just us.”

Hermione gave the other girls a wary look before talking out of the side of her mouth. “What are you two doing here? You can't be in here!”

“Don't worry about that now, just get ready to run through the portrait,” Harry said.

Hermione frowned slightly, but slowly made her way over to the entrance, where she pretended to be reading the noticeboard. 

“What are you going to do?” Draco asked.

“Just follow my lead.” Harry led them over to the fire, where he made sure they weren't between the staircases and any of the girls. 

“Hello, little girls,” said Harry in a low, hoarse voice.

Four wide eyed faces stared straight through him and Draco. “Who's there?” 

“Don't mind us, we're just enjoying the view,” Harry rasped. They gasped at that, and one of them half stood.

“And what a fine view it is,” added Draco in a low groan.

At that, they rose as one and ran for the staircase. “Get a Prefect!” one of them shouted. 

Harry and Draco couldn't hold back their laughter as they made their way to the portrait. Once through, they swung the Cloak over Hermione as well.

“You two do creepy a little too well for my liking,” she said, trying not to laugh herself.

“We definitely have to do that again,” Draco said in satisfaction.

“You can't just keep waltzing in here!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Sure we can, we know the password now,” Harry replied. 

Draco snorted. “Bangers and mash. Who on earth is responsible for that?”

“Well, what's your password then?” Hermione shot back.

Harry laughed. “Nice try, Hermione.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, then sighed. “Let's just get this over with, shall we?”

They were nearly at the office when they ran into Mrs Norris prowling in the corridor. The three of them froze as she turned her unblinking eyes in their direction. The cat took a few steps towards them, before seeming to get bored, and turned tail around the corner. It was a few seconds before any of them moved.

“Has she gone to get Filch?” Hermione asked nervously.

“I don't think so,” said Harry. “She usually looks kind of smug when she finds someone.”

“Does the Cloak work on cats?” Hermione persisted.

Harry considered this. “I think they can still hear and smell us, but they can't see us under it.”

Draco shrugged. “Makes sense.”

They'd reached the office by this time. Thankfully, there was no light coming from under the door; like they'd hoped, Quirrell was obviously elsewhere by this time of night.

“ _Alohomora_ ,” Harry whispered, and put his hand on the door handle. “Who's lookout?”

“I'll do it,” Hermione volunteered. Harry gave her a quick smile before he and Draco slipped out from under the Cloak and through the doorway. The door clicked softly shut behind them and they were plunged into darkness.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Harry muttered. Beside him, Draco did the same, and their wands lit up the room. The office was small and cluttered with books, and bunches of garlic adorned the walls. 

“So what exactly are we hoping to find?” Draco asked.

“Proof of something evil,” Harry replied as he moved to the desk.

“Well that narrows it down,” muttered Draco as he inspected a pile of books on the desk. “Huh. That's odd.”

“What is it?”

Draco frowned at him. “Why would a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher need a book on unicorns?”

“Can they protect you from vampires?” 

“I don't think so,” Draco said as his frown deepened. “I mean, they're good creatures, but I don't think they'd be very useful against a vampire.”

“Hang on, aren't there unicorns in the Forbidden Forest?” Harry asked slowly.

Draco's face cleared. “Yes. You think that's what Quirrell's after when he goes in there?”

Harry shrugged. “Makes sense. Maybe we could ask Hagrid? He'd know if there's anything about unicorns that Quirrell might be interested in.”

Draco nodded and put the book back on the pile he'd got it from.

“Are all of those about unicorns?” Harry asked.

Draco held his lit wand closer to the spines of the books. “No... Harry... These are all the books Hermione got out when she was researching you.”

Harry came around the desk. “He's reading about me?”

Draco nodded. “I think so.”

Harry looked at the pile. “Well, that's a little creepy.”

The door creaked open, and a second later Hermione appeared as she pulled off the Cloak. “We have to go, someone's coming!”

“Under the Cloak!” Harry grabbed it off Hermione, and was about to swing it over the three of them when the door opened. Framed in the dim light from the hallway were the angry figures of Snape and McGonagall. Harry quickly balled up his Cloak and shoved it into his pocket, but not before he saw Snape's eyes flick towards it.

“Just what is the meaning of this?” McGonagall demanded.

“I, er, we were... We were just-” stammered Hermione.

“We dared Hermione that she wouldn't sneak into Quirrell's office with us, ma'am,” Draco cut in.

“And what exactly is the fascination with this office?” McGonagall asked.

“We wanted to see if it was true it was covered in garlic, professor,” Harry improvised.

“And you felt that your curiosity justified you invading Professor Quirrell's privacy and breaking into his office?” McGonagall's nostrils flared. “I have heard some stupid excuses in my time, Mr Potter, but this has to be one of the most childish and thoughtless excuses I've had the misfortune to come across. And you, Miss Granger, I would have expected more of you than to be dragged into such a foolish endeavour by two Slytherin boys. Fifty points from each of you and detention. And Professor Snape and I shall be writing to your families, too. I trust that's acceptable to you, Severus?”

“Quite. If you'll escort Miss Granger back to the tower, Minerva, I'll take these two back to the dungeons.” With that, Snape stalked out of the office, not even bothering to check that Harry and Draco were following him. They had to jog to catch up with him as he was walking so fast. 

No one said anything until they got to the dungeons. Instead of going to the Slytherin rooms like Harry had been expecting, Snape took them to his office. “In!”

They hurried inside and stood uncertainly in front of Snape's desk. The door swung shut behind Snape as he prowled over to his desk and leaned across it. “What is the real reason you were in Quirrell's office in the middle of the night? And no more lies about garlic!”

Harry glanced at Draco before taking a deep breath. “We wanted to find out what he's up to, sir. We needed some proof, so you'd believe us.”

Snape just stared at Harry, unmoving and unblinking. Harry tried to meet his gaze, but those black eyes were once again making him feel like he was being X-rayed, and he blinked. Snape seemed to snap out of something then, and shot a quick look at Draco before looking back at Harry.

“Proof of what, exactly? You two keep bleating on about Quirrell but you are yet to offer me even a theory.”

Harry took a deep breath. “We think he's going to steal the Philosopher's Stone.”

For a long minute there was absolute silence in the office as Snape stared at them. “The Philosopher's Stone is heavily guarded by numerous obstacles and entrapments,” he finally said. 

“Well, that's why we wanted to find out what Quirrell was doing. What if he's trying to figure out how to get past them?” Harry continued stubbornly. 

Snape narrowed his eyes. “And why would he want the Stone?”

“Why wouldn't he?” Harry countered. “Immortality and turning any metal into gold? He'd be rich, and wouldn't have to worry about that vampire that's supposed to be after him.”

Draco finally spoke up. “We think it's also got something to do with Harry, sir. There were books on his desk. All the library books that mention Harry.”

Snape sat down then, but didn't tell them to do the same. “Has it occurred to you two geniuses that those library books would also mention the Dark Lord? Can you think of no reason why the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor might have those books in his possession?”

Draco looked down before meeting Snape's gaze again. “Sir, he only had the books that mention Harry. There are others that mention the Dark Lord but not Harry, and he didn't have any of those on his desk.”

Snape raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“And a book on unicorns, sir,” Harry added. 

Snape's eyes snapped to Harry then, and something other than anger passed over his face. “Unicorns?”

“Yes, sir,” they said together. 

Snape pursed his lips before he spoke. “Very well. I want you two to listen to me closely. I do not want to find you wandering the castle at all hours, with or without that Cloak of yours, Mr Potter.” Harry opened his mouth but Snape held up a hand. “You may keep it for now. I have a suspicion that, short of locking you in the dorms each night, there is little I can do to prevent you wandering around when you shouldn't be. I would prefer to not have to take points off Slytherin each time you do so. But believe me when I say if I ever catch you uninvited in my office, my classroom, my storeroom, or my personal quarters, I will _permanently_ confiscate it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry felt a tinge of relief eating into the guilt that had swept over him. 

“Good. Now, I want you two to stay away from Quirrell outside of the lessons you have with him. Do not tell others about your suspicions of him. And do not breathe a word about the Stone to anyone. I don't know how you found out about it, but its existence is not to be mentioned to anyone else. Stay away from the Forest and that infernal corridor. Either Professor McGonagall or myself will contact you when your detention has been arranged. And I expect you two to try to make up some of the points you've just lost Slytherin.”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape looked at them before nodding. “Dismissed.”

Harry and Draco left as quickly as they dared. 

“What the hell was that about?” Draco demanded once they were out of the office. 

“I think something we told Snape interested him,” Harry replied. “I think something we found made sense to him, or made him believe us or something. Semper victrix.”

Draco looked at him sceptically as the Slytherin entranceway opened up. “Perhaps. If you're right, he'll sort out Quirrell. He doesn't stand a chance against Snape.”

Harry smirked as they entered the common room. “Nope. Maybe we should follow Snape under the Cloak, so we can watch him confront Quirrell.”

Draco grabbed his arm. “No, Potter, we should _not_. Didn't you hear him?”

Harry wrenched his arm back. “Yes, I heard him practically give me permission to use my Cloak!”

Draco glared at him. “If you start following Snape around, you're on your own.” 

Draco started walking to the dorm, leaving Harry dumbstruck behind him. How could Draco abandon him like that? “Draco, wait!” 

Draco stopped but didn't look around at Harry. 

“I – I won't use the Cloak, then. I promise. Please don't get cross with me,” Harry said to Draco's back.

Draco was silent for a few seconds before he relented and turned around. “Fine. From now on, we behave ourselves. We don't piss off Snape, and we don't lose any more points.”

“Agreed.”

“And we _definitely_ don't do anything that results in any more letters being sent to my parents!”

“Agreed.” Harry shrugged. If the Dursleys cared about anything he'd done at school, he'd be very surprised, but he understood that Draco actually valued his family's opinion of him. 

Draco smiled and pulled Harry into a quick hug. “Good. Now let's get to bed before you come up with any more conspiracies.”

“Hey, they're not conspiracies if they're right!”


	9. In Which the Slytherins Join the Gryffindors, and Our Trio Serve Detention

Harry was surrounded by hundreds of books, each with a distorted picture of himself on the cover. He knew he shouldn't be here, he had to get out, but he couldn't think clearly over the prickling in his scar. There was movement from behind one of the stacks of books, and he felt for his wand but was unable to find it. 

“Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_.”

They were Snape's words, but they came out of Quirrell's mouth. 

Harry awoke with a start, covered in sweat and twisted in his sheets. Ripping them off, he quickly jammed his glasses on his face, and grabbed his wand, reassuring himself that he still had it. He opened his bed curtains to find everyone else still asleep. He checked the time and groaned. It was way too early to head down to breakfast, but he knew there was no way he could get back to sleep after that dream. Frowning, he picked up his History of Magic book and settled in to read the assigned reading while he waited for the others to wake up. 

There were a few advantages of being woken painfully early by nightmares, Harry found. By the time his friends started to stir, he'd not only read through that week's History of Magic chapters, but finished his summary on the differences between metal and wooden objects in animal transfiguration for McGonagall.

It was odd being awake so much earlier than everyone else. Harry wasn't a morning person by any means; at the Dursleys', he's only gotten up as early as he had because Aunt Petunia usually screeched at him to make breakfast. At Hogwarts he was able to sleep in a little more, and he took full advantage of that fact.

Like the rest of the dorm, Harry usually got dressed while still half asleep, and it amused him to see just how uncoordinated everyone seemed to someone who was fully awake. The only other person currently alert was Theo, who was surprised to see Harry already up.

“I didn't sleep in, did I?” Theo asked when he saw Harry sitting fully dressed on his bed. 

“Nah, I woke up a while ago and couldn't get back to sleep. Are they usually this brain dead in the mornings?” Harry gestured at the others.

Theo smirked. “Yes. You too. Although Draco's usually less sleepy and more just grumpy,” he added.

“Grumpier than that?” Harry asked as he watched Draco glaring at himself in the mirror.

Theo followed Harry's gaze. “Er, no. Definitely not.”

They fell silent as they waited for the others to gather their things, then went down to breakfast as a group. When they got to the Entrance Hall, they found a knot of Slytherins staring at the hourglasses that held the gems for each House. The points Harry, Draco and Hermione had lost last night had gone back up to the top of their respective hourglasses, though it wasn't as noticeable in the Gryffindor one.

“What happened?” Theo asked one of the Slytherins standing below the gem stones.

“No idea. Looks like someone got caught after curfew last night. Though at least it looks like Gryffindor lost some as well,” a sixth year replied. Harry and Draco feigned confused outrage along with the others as they hurried off to the Slytherin table. 

Theo leaned across Harry under the pretence of reaching for the toast. “It was you, wasn't it?”

Harry looked up, startled. “What?”

“Last night. The lost points, it was you and Draco, wasn't it? With who, Hermione? Or Longbottom?”

Harry shook his head.

Theo snorted. “Come on, Potter, I'm not an idiot. You and Draco didn't go to bed when the rest of us did, and you were both acting oddly this morning. And who else would get caught roaming the halls with a Gryffindor? No one, not unless they were having a duel or shagging, and we would've heard about that.”

Harry looked around, but no one else had overheard them. “You're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

Theo gave him searching look. “No. But I'll expect something in return.”

Harry nodded in resignation. “What do you want?”

Theo smiled in a totally non-reassuring way. “Oh, I'll think of something, don't worry. It might take me a while to think of something worthwhile, though.” He held out his hand. As Harry shook it, he wondered what exactly he'd just signed Draco and himself up for. 

Harry didn't have a chance to talk to Draco about his deal with Theo until they got to Herbology. Sprout had darkened all the windows in the greenhouse in order to show them how to handle a juvenile Devil's Snare. 

“You _what_?” Draco's cry was drowned out by a crash and a bright flash of light at the front of the greenhouse. Whatever was going on up had apparently transfixed the rest of the class.

Harry winced. “He knew, Draco. What was I supposed to do?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “How about anything else? Bribery? Hexing?”

“I'm not hexing my friends, you git.”

“No, you prat, you've just agreed that the both of us owe Nott an as yet unknown favour to be paid on some future date. How exactly is this a good thing?” 

“Draco, Theo's our friend. Would you relax? What's the worst that could happen?”

They both blinked as another flash of light and a wisp of smoke came from the front. They couldn't see what was happening through the crush of students. 

“Apart from burning to death in a greenhouse, you mean?” Draco raised an eyebrow before they both sniggered.

********

True to his word, Theo didn't expose them to the rest of the house, and no one else figured it out. As the week progressed with no further accusations, Harry's guilt faded, though it flared up when Draco and Hermione received rather terse letters from their parents.

Harry and Draco focused on their school work as they tried to forget about Quirrell. This was made easier due to Hermione burying herself in exam revision. They once again spent most of their time in the library, but this time they were studying for class, and were usually joined by Theo and Tracey, too. Finally, after two weeks of this, Harry had had enough.

“No, no library today. It's Quidditch today, and you're going to the match,” Harry told Hermione firmly when she came over to the Slytherin table at breakfast. Like the rest of his friends, he already had his gloves and Slytherin scarf with him.

“But...”

“Go put your bag away and get your Gryffindor scarf. Longbottom, too,” Draco told her. “We'll meet you in the Entrance Hall in ten minutes.”

Hermione stared at him as he went back to his sipping his tea, then shook her head. “Fine. See you soon.” 

Harry watched as she went to fetch Neville. “You know, she might want to sit in the Gryffindor stands for this match. Since it's them playing and all.”

“I'm aware of that, Potter. That's why we'll be sitting there with her.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “We're going to be sitting with the Gryffindors? Who all hate us?”

“Not all, merely most. And yes, we'll be sitting with them.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I guess they have sat with you guys for our matches, so it's only fair.”

Draco snorted. “Fair? Please. I just want the opportunity to annoy Weasley with no teachers around.”

Pansy's eyes lit up. “Ooh, sounds fun. Shall we?”

In the end, Pansy and Daphne both joined them in the Entrance Hall while the others made their way to the Slytherin stand. Soon enough Hermione and a beaming Neville came down the stairs.

Pansy linked her arm in Hermione's. “We haven't spoken to you in ages, you're always with Harry and Draco lately.”

“Well...”

“You need to stop monopolising all the cute boys,” Daphne pouted from her other side as they set off. 

Harry stared after them. Did Daphne just call him cute? He snuck a glance at Draco, who was talking to Neville. Draco he could understand being thought cute, but him? Harry shook his head. Girls were weird. 

When they got to the pitch Hermione made to head towards the Slytherin stand, but Pansy steered her to the Gryffindor one. 

“We're sitting here today?” Hermione asked as they started up the stairs. 

“Yep. We're supporting Gryffindor today,” Pansy replied.

“Oh. How come?”

“Because you're our friends,” Harry said.

“Also, and no offence, but Gryffindor doesn't have a chance of beating us in the Quidditch Cup, while Hufflepuff do,” Draco added helpfully. 

“Thanks, Draco,” Hermione said drily.

They got some odd looks from the Gryffindors as they made their way to their seats. The only spaces left were right at the top of the stand, directly behind the first year Gryffindors. 

“Perfect,” Draco said smugly as they sat down. 

Harry grinned at him. “What do you have planned?”

“Something I think you'll enjoy,” was all Draco would say. 

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Neville on his other side, who immediately started talking about the Devil's Snares they'd been studying in Herbology. 

Draco leaned across Harry. “Longbottom, we're at a Quidditch match. Please don't talk about school. Not unless you're planning on throwing a few Devil's Snares at the Hufflepuff players to sabotage them, in which case, go right ahead.”

As Neville turned pink and laughed nervously, the boys in the row in front turned around. 

“Trust a Slytherin to tell someone to cheat,” said Ron loudly.

“I'm sorry, Weasel, do you have a problem with people wanting Gryffindor to win?” Draco asked innocently.

“I've got a problem being around you, Malfoy.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Feel free to leave, then.”

Ron turned on Neville. “Why are you even friends with them? They're Slytherins.”

Draco snorted. “Perhaps he doesn't want to limit his social options to the idiots he has to share a room with. What a boring existence that would be.”

Ron looked to his friends for support. Neither one was paying any attention to the argument. Both were smiling at Daphne, who was leaning over to flirt with them, ignoring the glares she was getting from the Gryffindor girls. Hermione and Pansy were whispering to each other at the end of the row. Judging by the glint in Pansy's eyes as she looked at the girls below her, nothing good would be coming their way.

Harry sat back in his seat just as the Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch. He cheered along with the others, but didn't boo the Hufflepuffs when they entered. He was too excited about his first Quidditch match as a spectator to jeer anyone. Not for the first time, he regretted that he'd missed the Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw match because he'd been researching Flamel with Draco and Hermione. 

Jordan's voice floated around the stadium as he began commentating. “They're off! Gryffindor take immediate possession of the Quaffle; Bell to Spinnet, to Johnson – duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! - back to Bell who – yes, she scores!”

The stand around them erupted in cheers, and for the moment all tensions were forgotten as everyone became engrossed in the match. It soon became clear that Gryffindor must have been training hard, as their Chasers dominated the play, and they were soon leading sixty to nothing. 

“And it's Spinnet in possession again, heading down the pitch and – _ow_ , that must have hurt!”

Up in the air, Spinnet had been hit in the side with a Bludger and dropped the Quaffle. It was immediately picked up by a Hufflepuff Chaser who sped off towards the goals.

“The Hufflepuff Chasers are using the Hawkshead Formation. Weasley hits a Bludger at them but it goes wide and – oh no, they've scored,” came Jordan's glum voice.

The Gryffindor crowd let out a loud moan, except for Ron, who was waving his arms in the air in apparent excitement as his classmates all stared at him. Harry thought he looked like one of those creepy inflatable men that were sometimes put up in front of car dealerships.

“What the hell are you doing?” Seamus Finnigan asked him.

“I, er, got confused,” Ron muttered. Seamus and Dean Thomas looked at each other and carefully slid an inch or two away from him on the bench as his ears turned red. Harry exchanged a confused look with Neville, who looked just as lost. Harry turned to Draco and found him shaking with silent laughter.

“What did you do?” Harry whispered.

Draco took a breath to stop laughing. “Mad Hands hex. Makes your arms go, well, like that.”

“Brilliant!” Harry laughed.

“I know,” gasped Draco through his laughter.

The game sped up after that, and soon Gryffindor was leading one hundred and sixty to ten, when Hufflepuff scored again. This time Harry was waiting for it, and heard Draco murmur “ _manus insanus_ ” as he pointed his wand at Ron. Again his arms jerked up to wave in the air as the Slytherins behind him laughed into their hands. 

“Mate, that was Hufflepuff. Again.” Seamus told Ron, who said nothing, choosing to sit on his hands instead.

“Remind me to never annoy Draco,” Neville whispered to Harry. “I'd hate to see him if he was really angry.”

Gryffindor had just scored again, bringing them up to one hundred and ninety, when Parvati Patil stood up and pointed. “They've seen the Snitch!”

Sure enough, both Seekers were streaking up the pitch, where Harry could see a golden speck darting around. He turned his attention back to the Seekers; he would, after all, be facing the Hufflepuff one in his next match. The Hufflepuff Seeker was small and light like Harry, but Gryffindor's McLaggen was larger and bulkier, and was soon falling behind in their race for the Snitch.

“Hufflepuff catch the Snitch – but Gryffindor win! One hundred and ninety to one hundred and seventy!” Jordan crowed triumphantly a few seconds later. 

A great cheer went up as Gryffindors started leaving the stand en masse to rush the pitch. Hermione squeezed past the others and grabbed Neville's hand before running after the rest of the house. As Harry watched them go he noticed Parvati and Lavender suddenly clap their hands over their faces. Harry looked back in time to see Pansy slipping her wand back inside her robes. 

“What did you do?” Harry asked for the second time that day.

“Curse of the Bogies. They'll have runny noses for hours,” Pansy said smugly, before she caught sight of Harry's frown. “Oh, don't look at me like that. They'll be fine, they just need to get a potion of Pomfrey and they'll be fine.”

“What did you do that for?” Harry asked as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Because I don't like them,” Pansy shrugged.

“Neither do you, Potter,” Draco said as they headed for the stairs. 

“Of course not, they're horrible to Hermione all the time,” Harry said. 

Pansy scoffed. “It's worse than that. They're giving Daphne a bad name.”

“Me? How?” Daphne looked at Pansy quizzically. 

“They make all shallow, boy-crazy girls look like brainless bimbos,” Pansy replied. 

“Hey, I am _not_ boy-crazy. I'm merely incredibly interested in them,” Daphne said primly. 

“Which is why you started flirting with Finnigan and Thomas as soon as we sat down?” Draco arched an eyebrow.

Daphne raised hers right back. “Would you rather I flirted with you?”

Draco blinked. “I'm good, thank you,” was all he said, as something hot swept through Harry. Shaking his head slightly, he walked off after the others as they kept bickering.

********

At breakfast on Monday, Harry and Draco both received notes in the mail. Harry absently fed Hedwig bits of his bacon as he read. 

_Your detention will take place tonight at eleven o'clock.  
Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall._

_Prof. S. Snape_

__  


At eleven o'clock that night they arrived in the Entrance Hall to find Hermione looking very uncomfortable and trying to stand as far away from Filch as she could.

“'Bout time you got here. Follow me,” Filch said as he pushed open the doors.

“We're going outside?” Harry asked. Apart from their cloaks, none of them had put on any warm clothes. 

“You'll be in the Forbidden Forest tonight, boy.”

“The Forbidden Forest? But aren't there werewolves and things in there? We can't go in there!” Draco protested.

“Should have thought about that before you broke the rules then. 'Course, back in the old days I would've been allowed to hang you by the wrists from the ceiling... School's gone soft if you ask me.”

Harry tuned out the rest of Filch's speech. Facing werewolves in the Forest at night sounded far better than being hung from the ceiling. 

Instead of taking them straight into the Forest, Filch took them to Hagrid's cabin, where he was holding a lantern and a giant crossbow. Fang was sitting beside him, and perked up when he caught sight of Draco. Harry grinned; detention with Hagrid wouldn't be so bad. 

“What took yeh so long, Filch? Lecturin' them, I 'spect?” Hagrid grumbled.

“Might've done.”

“Well, you can get back to the castle now. I'll bring 'em back when we're done. Come on you three.” Hagrid turned and started off towards the Forest, ignoring Filch's muttering. Harry and Hermione hurried after him, with Draco and Fang bringing up the rear.

At the edge of the Forest Hagrid stopped and faced them. “Now, I won't lie to yeh, what we're doing tonight'll be dangerous, so you need to do as I say.” When they all nodded he pointed as some silvery liquid on the ground. “See that? That's unicorn blood. There's something in there been hurtin' unicorns real bad. Don't know what, I never seen anything like it before. There's not much that could hurt a unicorn, or would want to. There's been another one hurt today, and we need to find it. Harry and Draco, you go with Fang. Hermione, you'll come with me. Keep yer wands lit and yer eyes open. If you find the unicorn, send up green sparks, and if you run into trouble, send up red sparks. You all know how? Good, then let's go. Make sure you keep to the path, mind.”

The Forest was black and still. The trees soared up so high that they melted into the darkness. The trail of unicorn blood they'd been following split into two trails when they came to a fork in the path, and the group split up. Harry and Draco had to light their wands now that Hagrid had gone off with the only lantern, and the moonlight couldn't penetrate the thick canopy to reach the ground.

“What if we come across whatever's hurting the unicorns?” Draco asked. 

“Send up red sparks and get the hell out of there?” Harry suggested, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

“At least we have Fang with us,” Draco said as he patted the dog's head. He looked very much as if he was trying to reassure himself.

They didn't speak much after that. The oppressive silence of the forest made their voices seem unnaturally loud. The only sounds were their own footsteps and Fang's occasional sniffing. They dutifully followed the trail of unicorn blood; Harry was concerned to see that it was gradually growing thicker, and there were splashes on the odd tree now. A low groan reached their ears.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm as Fang whimpered and pressed himself into Draco's legs. “What was that?”

“Sounds like something in pain. I think we've found the unicorn,” Harry whispered grimly.

They crept forward cautiously in the direction of the sound. They could see a bright glimmer behind a massive oak tree. When they rounded it, they found a unicorn lying on the ground. Silvery blood was leaking out of a wound on its shoulder, and one of its legs was bloodied as well. It looked at them with half shut eyes and gave another groan.

“What happened to it?” Harry asked as he stepped forward. He stopped suddenly when Draco pulled back on his arm. Fang was growling softly. “Let go.”

Draco shook his head in silence, eyes fixed on something past Harry. He turned to see a cloaked figure emerge from the trees and make its way to the unicorn. Harry and Draco watched in horrified silence as it crouched next to the wounded animal. It lowered its hooded face to the wound on the unicorn and began to drink, and then everything happened at once.

Draco let out an ear piercing scream that made Fang yelp and take off into the trees. Draco tugged on Harry's arm to get him to run, too, but Harry couldn't move. He was transfixed by the sight before him. Then the hooded face was raised to face him and his scar burst into bright, burning pain. 

This was nothing like the headaches he'd sometimes got around Quirrell. He felt like his head would split in two. Dimly he felt Draco shaking his arm but he couldn't do anything about it as the figure in front of him slowly rose to its feet and advanced on him. Harry fell to his knees as the pain built even higher and his vision blurred. He thought he heard the sound of hooves, but couldn't focus enough to be sure. 

It was a minute or so before he could see properly. He looked to see Draco's already pale face completely drained of colour. He pulled Harry to his feet without letting go of his arm. The hooded figure was gone.

“Are you all right?”

Harry looked up to see what could only be a centaur. He had white blonde hair, and Harry had the absurd thought that he was looking at a palomino version of Draco, before he noticed that the centaur had blue eyes, not grey. 

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts, and rubbed his still tender scar. “I'm fine. Thank you for saving us.”

The centaur's eyes followed Harry's hand as he raised it to his scar. “You are the Potter boy.”

“Er, yeah, Harry. And this is Draco.”

“My name is Firenze.”

“Oh! Hagrid's told me about you,” Harry replied.

“Hagrid is a good friend to those of us who dwell in this forest.”

“Yeah, he – shit, the unicorn!” Harry had forgotten about the unicorn in all the excitement. He quickly shot a shower of green sparks into the air with his wand and then crouched down and laid his hand on the unicorn's flank. It opened one eye but otherwise didn't react.

“It's still alive,” he reported. “What _was_ that? That thing?”

Firenze looked from him to the unicorn before replying. “Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

Harry looked at Draco, who frowned. “No. We haven't used any in Potions.”

Firenze nodded. “Of course not, not many ever would. It is a horrible deed, to harm a unicorn. If you kill one, you will be cursed. The blood may keep you alive, even if you are moments from death, but your life will be empty, a cursed thing, for you have killed something pure. It is not a path to take lightly.”

“But who would want that? Wouldn't death be better than being cursed forever?”

“Most people would agree with you. But what if all one needed was to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Harry Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”

“The Philosopher's Stone,” answered Harry and Draco in unison.

“The Elixir of Life!” Draco exclaimed. Then he gasped and shook his head. “No, no, no...”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “But who would – ”

Firenze cut in. “Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

Harry looked at Draco again, who was paler than ever.

“Do you mean that was _Voldemort_ ” Harry asked. Draco winced at the name. 

“Harry! Draco! Are you all right?” Hermione was running down the path towards them, followed by Hagrid. Behind him came Fang with his tail between his legs.

“We're fine. We found the unicorn. It's hurt but still alive,” Harry said as he stood up. “Thanks again, Firenze.”

“You are safe now,” Firenze said, glancing at Hagrid. “Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

Not quite sure what to say to that, Harry watched in silence as Firenze cantered off into the forest. When he turned around again, Draco and Hermione were huddled together as they watched Hagrid crouch over the unicorn. As Harry went to join the others, Hagrid stood up with the unicorn in his arms.

“I'll be able to take care of this back at me cabin. Draco, keep an eye on Fang, will yeh? I don't wan' him runnin' off.”

They made a strange procession back out of the Forest. Harry and Hermione led, lighting the way with the lantern. Behind them came Draco with his hand on Fang's head, followed by Hagrid who was puffing under the weight of the half-dead unicorn.

“What happened?” Hermione asked Harry in an undertone.

“Not now,” was all he hissed back. Hermione fell silent, but he could sense her impatience beside him.

They said goodnight to Hagrid and Fang at the cabin, then started making their way back to the castle. When they were halfway there Hermione stopped and put her hands on her hips.

“Alright, so what happened back there?”

Harry took a deep breath. “We think it was Voldemort.” Haltingly, they began to explain what happened. By the end of their tale, Hermione's face was as pale as Draco's. 

“What do we do?” she whispered.

“We go to Snape,” Draco said, and Harry nodded. For once, Hermione didn't argue about it.

********

The next evening Harry spent dinner watching the staff table. He caught McGonagall's eye, who pursed her lips and leant over to speak to Dumbledore, who cast a speculative gaze on Harry. He frowned slightly, and looked over to where Snape was talking with Hagrid. As soon as he stood up and swept out of the room, Harry took a final bite of his dinner and nudged Draco.

“You done?”

Draco swallowed and nodded. They muttered quick goodbyes to their friends and then went over to the Gryffindor table where they found Hermione finishing her own dinner. After a quick hello to Neville, the three of them headed down to the dungeons. 

They stopped outside Snape's office and Harry knocked on the door. Beside him, Draco straightened his tie and Hermione smoothed down her skirt. 

“Yes?” The door opened, and Snape looked down at them. “Ah, you three. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We need to talk to you,” Harry said.

“Please,” added Hermione. 

Snape swept his gaze over them before nodding once and holding the door open further. They stood nervously in front of the desk as Snape closed the door and sat down in front of them. He gestured with his wand and three hard wooden chairs materialised.

“Sit. Speak.”

Harry sat up a little straighter. “Well, sir, it's about our detention last night.”

“If you have come to complain about the unfairness of it, spare me. The three of you were justly punished for your crime.”

“Actually, professor, as far as detentions go, it was quite, ah, informative,” said Draco.

“Although I'm not entirely sure Filch should be allowed around students, he mentioned something about hanging us from our wrists and that sort of thing really shouldn't be condoned in this day and age,” Hermione said earnestly, before blushing as three sets of eyes looked at her. “Sorry.”

Snape tapped his wand on the desk, and a tea tray with four cups appeared. He poured one for himself and gestured for them to help themselves. “Miss Granger, rest assured that while Filch is only too happy to oversee the detentions you miscreants earn, he will never be permitted to assign them. The Headmaster would never allow it.”

Mollified, Hermione busied herself preparing her tea. Draco stared at her for a moment before rolling his eyes and looking back at Snape.

“Sir, I know you told us to forget about the Stone and everything, but we think this is bigger than Quirrell.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what, pray tell, did you discover on this oh so informative detention of yours?”

Harry met his eyes determinedly. “Voldemort.” He ignored the reactions the name caused and continued. “Draco and I saw him in the Forest. It's him that's been hurting the unicorns. He's drinking their blood.”

Snape went a little pale, but otherwise showed no reaction. “How can you be sure of this? What did Hagrid say?”

“We didn't tell him, as he was busy with the injured unicorn. You're the first staff member we've told,” said Draco. 

“Sir, if you don't believe us, you could ask Firenze. He's a centaur. We'd found the injured unicorn, and then this hooded figure came and started drinking its blood. Then it noticed us, and started coming towards us, and then Firenze came and scared it off. Then he basically told us it was Voldemort we'd seen.”

“'Basically'. Did he or did he not say it was the Dark Lord?” Snape demanded. 

“Not in so many words, no,” Harry admitted.

“Sir, there's also the matter of Harry's scar,” Draco said. Harry shot him an angry look, which he ignored.

Snape looked at his scar curiously, before asking Draco, “What about it?”

“Draco...”

“Potter, if you won't tell him, I will,” Draco said firmly. “Professor, when we saw the Dark Lord in the Forest, Fang ran off, leaving Harry and I alone. I tried to get him to run away, too, but he wouldn't move. It was like he was in a trance or something. I was tugging on his arm, shouting his name and he didn't respond. And then the Dark Lord looked up, and Harry just _collapsed_ onto the ground, with one hand pressed to his scar. And then Firenze came charging in and scared off the Dark Lord. But it took a minute or two before Harry could respond.”

“Thanks a lot, Malfoy,” Harry muttered as Snape made his way around the desk. 

“Hold still, Mr Potter,” was all he said before waving his wand over Harry's scar, muttering under his breath. He did this for a minute, while Harry tried not to fidget. Finally, he lowered his wand and returned to his seat. “Well, there doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary with it. Although that term is, of course, entirely relative when it comes to you. The Killing Curse doesn't usually leave scars or survivors.”

“So what does it mean?” Hermione asked.

“I'm not sure,” Snape said slowly. “Mr Potter, has your scar hurt in the past, or is this a new development?”

Harry sighed. “It used to give me headaches when we were following Quirrell around. And I had a nightmare the other week and it hurt when I woke up.”

“Hmm.” Snape sipped his tea as he stared at Harry's scar. “What you've told me tonight has been interesting. I shall have to inform the Headmaster.” He paused, and his frown softened minutely. “Mr Potter, I'm afraid I don't know what to tell you about your scar. I can only suggest you see Madam Pomfrey if you require pain relievers. I would also be interested to know if it bothers you again. In the meantime...”

“Keep out of trouble?” Harry guessed.

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. “Precisely. Perhaps there is hope for you three yet.”


	10. In Which Draco Tells Off Hagrid, Who Then Says Something He Shouldn't

The rest of term went by far too quickly for Harry's liking. They were given so much homework in the lead up to exams that they didn't have time to get into trouble, even if they'd wanted to. The Easter holidays weren't nearly as fun as Christmas had been. Apart from occasionally talking Theo into going flying with him, Harry spent most of his time revising in the library with Hermione, Theo and Tracey, who had all stayed at school to study. 

On the last day of the break they were in the library once again. Harry had just taken a break from study and gone for a quick walk. When he entered the library again he ran into Hagrid. 

“Hagrid! What are you doing in here?” Harry asked in surprise. 

Hagrid's eyes looked around shiftily as he held his arms behind his back. “Just lookin'. You studying hard?”

Something about the quick subject change made Harry suspicious. “Er, yeah, Hermione's even bossier than usual when it comes to studying.”

“That's good, that's real good,” Hagrid said distractedly. “I better be off. See yeh around, Harry.”

Harry watched with narrowed eyes as Hagrid left the library, before he entered the row Hagrid had been in. When he found the books Hagrid had been looking at, a wave of foreboding swept over him. He looked at the cover of _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_. Shit. “This can't be good.” He hastily put the book back on the shelf and went to join the others. “Do you know what time the train gets in?”

“About an hour before dinner. Why?” Hermione replied.

“Nothing. Just, you know, want to see Draco,” Harry said in what he hoped was a casual voice.

********

That night at dinner Harry watched the staff table again. Hagrid hadn't appeared, which only confirmed Harry's suspicions that something was going on. His mood wasn't lightened when he noticed that Dumbledore seemed to be watching him just as carefully. Groaning internally, he returned his focus to his dinner, but found he had no appetite.

“What's wrong with you, Harry?” Draco finally asked in exasperation.

“What? Nothing!” Harry blurted.

Draco gave him a withering look. “Please. You've hardly touched your food and you've barely spoken to me since I returned.”

Harry didn't reply straight away as he tried to make up his mind. “Okay, yeah, something's bothering me, but I don't want to talk about it here. Come for a walk?”

Draco carefully patted his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “Save us seats in the common room,” he said to Pansy before he followed Harry out of the Great Hall.

Harry walked out of the castle and made for Hagrid's cabin, trusting that Draco would follow. 

“What's this all about?” Draco asked finally.

“I really, really hope I'm just being paranoid about this,” Harry started.

Draco groaned. “Oh no. What's happened?”

“I ran into Hagrid in the library this afternoon.”

Draco shrugged. “So? That's unusual, but hardly a sign of the apocalypse.”

Harry looked at him. “He was looking up dragons.”

Draco frowned. “Well, that's... He likes creatures that the rest of us would call monsters, you know that as well as I...”

“He was looking at books about raising them.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

When they reached Hagrid's all the curtains were drawn. Harry knocked furiously on the door. “Hagrid! Open up, I need to talk to you!”

There was a small crash from inside, then Hagrid spoke through the closed door. “Now's not a great time, Harry.”

“Please, Hagrid.”

“No. I'll, er, I'll see yeh tomorrow, how about that?”

Harry looked at Draco pleadingly, who grinned back. “Fang? Fang!” Draco called deliberately.

There came a flurry of barks, and then scratching at the door. Hagrid swore, and opened it with decided ill grace. “Come in then, yeh sneaky little...”

“I believe the word you're searching for is 'Slytherins',” said Draco airily as he walked in to pat Fang. “Good dog!” Fang wagged his tail and rolled over for a tummy scratch. Draco happily obliged him.

Hagrid shook his head. “No, definitely not the word I was lookin' for. I s'pose the two of yeh will be wantin' a cuppa?”

“That would lovely, thank you,” replied Draco, looking up. Fang wasn't happy to lose Draco's attention, and bit his sleeve. “No, Fang! Let go!” Draco said sharply, then looked on in surprise as Fang did just that. 

Harry wasn't paying any attention. He pointed to the fire. “Hagrid, please tell me that that isn't what I think it is.”

Hagrid set three bucket-sized mugs on the table. “Well, er, that'd all depend on what you think it is.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I _think_ it's a dragon egg. I'd really like to be wrong about that, though.”

“Ah.”

“Oh god,” moaned Harry as he sat down.

Hagrid grabbed the kettle off the fire and poured the tea. “Now, don't be thinking like that. I've read up on them, yeh see. I reckon I can hatch it.”

Harry shut his eyes. “That's what I'm afraid of, Hagrid. You can't have a dragon!”

“Why not?”

“Firstly, because they're illegal,” said Draco as he sat down next to Harry. “Secondly, you live in a _wooden cabin_. One sneeze and the entire place will go up in flames.”

“Ah, that's only if things go wrong,” Hagrid said confidently.

“Oh, yes?” Draco stared at him coldly. “And what exactly do you intend to do with it once it's hatched? You do have responsibilities here, you know, you can't spend every second locked in your cabin looking after a bloody dragon. And I hardly think even Dumbledore is mad enough to let you have one roaming the grounds.”

“Well...”

Draco ploughed on. “And what about Fang? You've had him for how long, now? How do you think he's going to feel when you kick him out of the house to make way for a dragon?”

“I wouldn't need to – ”

“Yes, you would. Because that thing will grow, and sooner or later it will get to the point that it looks at Fang as dinner. And I, for one, am not about to let that happen!”

Harry looked between Draco's glowering face and Hagrid's red one. 

“I hadn't thought about it like that...” Hagrid said eventually.

“Clearly,” Draco fumed. 

Harry spoke up in an effort to break the tension. “Where did you even get it? It must've been expensive as hell.”

Hagrid perked up a little. “Won it last night. Card game in Hogsmeade.”

“With whom? Who carries a dragon egg around like that?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“I dunno, do I? Bloke kept his hood up all night.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other, remembering the hooded figure they'd seen in the Forbidden Forest. 

“Ah, don't look like that. It were in the Hog's Head, plenty of folk in there keep their faces hidden.”

Harry looked at him in despair. There was no way this could end well.

Hagrid went on. “Look, I told yeh I've read up on them. Once it gets too big for my house, I can keep it in the Forest. If I raise it from a baby it should be tame enough.”

Harry buried his head in his hands. Only Hagrid could describe a dragon as being 'tame enough'. 

Draco stood up abruptly. “Hagrid, you can't keep this dragon. This can only end with your house – and probably you and Fang – getting set on fire.”

Hagrid looked at Draco. Sitting down, he was still a few inches higher than him. “And what are you planning on doing 'bout it?”

Draco took a deep breath and held his head up. “It's what you're going to do about it. You're going to tell the Headmaster.”

“I'm what?” Both Hagrid and Harry looked at Draco in shock. 

“Going to tell Dumbledore. Obviously.” When they continued to look at him blankly, Draco sat down again with a sigh. “Look, all you need to do is tell Dumbledore the truth. Well, part of it, anyway. That you played cards with a stranger in the pub, and when you won he gave you the egg. You'd had a few drinks, so didn't think it was a real egg, or, or you thought it was a fossil or something. Then today, after you'd sobered up, you thought it might actually be real. So you went to the library, did a bit of research, and then decided to tell him about it. I'm sure he knows someone in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he can arrange for someone to come and pick it up and take it to some dragon reserve somewhere.”

Harry and Hagrid just stared at him. He wilted a bit. “What? I thought it was a good plan.”

********

A few days later and Harry and Draco were held back after Potions.

“We didn't do anything, sir!” Harry cried as Snape sat behind his desk. 

“On the contrary, Mr Potter, you did quite a lot.”

Harry looked at Draco, who shrugged slightly. 

“I had a most intriguing conversation with Hagrid in the staffroom this morning. He was quite distraught over something when I entered. Imagine my surprise when I found out the cause of his distress. A dragon, of all things.”

“Sir...” Harry started to say, then stopped. How would he explain this?

Snape seemed to be amused by his efforts. “I haven't kept you here to lecture you. Quite the reverse. I actually wanted to know what you said to him.”

“What I said to him?”

Snape sighed. “Yes, what you said to him in order to get him to inform the Headmaster about the dragon egg he had somehow acquired. Surprising as this may seem, this is not the first time that Hagrid has found himself the owner of a dangerous and illegal creature. It is, however, the first time he has been persuaded to hand it over before it caused extensive damage or injury. I confess myself curious as to what you said to him.”

Harry grinned. “It was Draco, sir. He got upset at the thought of Fang getting hurt by the dragon, and he told Hagrid he wouldn't let that happen. Then he convinced him to tell the Headmaster.”

Snape looked at Draco appraisingly. “An interesting tactic. I shall keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time? How many times has he done this?” Draco asked. 

“This is the first time he has attempted to hatch a dragon egg. A few years ago, it was his desire to travel to the Isle of Drear and befriend a Quintaped. Before that, he wanted to 'free' the kelpie that resides in Loch Ness.”

“You mean the Loch Ness monster?” Harry asked.

“The very same. It is not a miraculous remnant of marine dinosaurs as Muggles believe. In any case, he was only prevented from travelling there by the unfortunate ingestion of an experimental potion.”

“You _poisoned_ him?” Harry let out an involuntary giggle.

“I cannot be held responsible for Hagrid picking up the wrong liquid when he visited my office to take tea,” Snape said blandly.

“So what's going to happen to the dragon?” Draco cut in.

“The Headmaster arranged for representatives from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to pick it up last night. I believe it is now on its way to a dragon reserve in Romania, where it will be amongst its own kind, and far away from any people except for highly trained dragonologists.”

“That's brilliant!” Harry beamed.

Snape smirked. “Isn't it amazing the things one can achieve when one asks for help, instead of blundering in on one's own?”

********

The day of Harry's last Quidditch match was a perfect May day, clear and sunny. For the first time, Harry wasn't nervous, and cheerfully ate his breakfast before joining the rest of the team in the changing rooms. He got changed and waited with the others for Flint to arrive.

“Last game of the season for us, let's make it a good one. Hufflepuff are our closest competition at the moment. Only thirty points behind us. Which means you,” he pointed at Harry, “can't let their Seeker catch the Snitch. Not unless we're one hundred and ninety points in front. And don't catch it yourself if they've got too big a lead.”

Harry nodded. 

“Don't worry Flint, we'll score plenty of goals,” Adrian piped up.

“Of course we will. Come on then, let's do it!”

The walked onto the pitch to the usual cacophony of cheers and boos. Hooch gave them her usual speech about a fair game and then blew her whistle to start the game. Instead of soaring above the game like he usually did, Harry stayed closed behind the Hufflepuff Seeker. If he managed to find the Snitch, Harry was going to stop him from catching it. He also kept an ear out for the commentary, to keep track of the score.

Harry had been following the other Seeker for a while before he started to get bored. It wasn't a feeling he usually associated with flying, especially not during a Quidditch match, but following someone else as they flew lazy circles around the pitch was just boring. Harry was starting to wish the other Seeker would find the Snitch, simply for something to do, when he spotted it himself. It was fluttering in front of the Hufflepuff stand to the left of the other Seeker. 

Harry bent low over his Nimbus and shot past the Seeker on his right, hoping he'd take the bait. He did. Harry dove down and out, so that he was flying only a few metres in front of the first row of staff stand. He risked a look back and grinned. He had a tail. He kept his speed up for a while before pulling up short and swearing as if he'd lost the Snitch. His counterpart stopped a few metres in front of him and looked around, lost. Harry took the moment to fly off the way he'd come. He slowed down past the staff stand and smiled. Slytherin were trailing by ten points. He was free to catch the Snitch now, if he could.

But he couldn't. Try as he might, couldn't find the Snitch again. The other Seeker had stolen Harry's idea, and now he was trailing him around the pitch. Harry smiled. He can follow me, so long as he can keep up.

Harry started ducking and weaving through the other players. Twice he had to roll over on his broom to avoid a Bludger. Still his tail was behind him. He flew around the Hufflepuff goal posts as Flint hovered in front, preparing to block the oncoming Chasers. Flattening himself along his broom, Harry shot straight towards them. When the lead Chaser's face came close enough for him to make out his scared expression, Harry went into a dive, coming back up behind the Chasers in time to see them collide with their own Seeker.

“And a risky move by the Slytherin Seeker but it's paid off – a Hufflepuff collision and they lose the Quaffle, picked up by Pucey heading towards the Slytherin goals.”

Harry hovered for a moment as he watched the Hufflepuffs untangle themselves. A few seconds later Shabes scored.

“And Slytherin are closing in, one hundred to one hundred and ten.”

Harry silently thanked the commentator and started to look for the Snitch in earnest. Time to finish the game unencumbered by his rival, who was looking dazed after his collision. Harry surveyed the air calmly, blocking out everything that wasn't a glimmer of gold.

And there it was, darting about mere inches from the ground below him. Harry went into a steep dive, ignoring the Hufflepuff Chaser carrying the Quaffle who almost crashed into him as he shot past. He had his hand out to catch the Snitch, but it dodged to the side at the last second. Harry swore and jerked his broom to the right, and suddenly he found himself speeding along on his side, less than a metre above the ground. Resolutely not looking at the ground rushing along just next to his head, he tightened his grip on his broom and stretched his arm out again. This time his hand closed over the Snitch. 

He flipped his broom right side up with relief and jumped off as he waved the Snitch above his head. He caught sight of the Hufflepuff team landing dejectedly before he was surrounded by his cheering team mates. 

“Harry, that dive was brilliant!” Gemma enthused as she hugged him. 

Terence grinned. “We've won the cup.”

“Not yet, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw still have a match left,” Flint replied.

“Yeah, but they'd have to get more than three hundred points to beat us,” Miles pointed out. “What are the chances of that?”

“Not impossible. Let's get to the change rooms,” Flint started to make his way through the crowd of Slytherins now surrounding the team.

Gemma rolled her eyes. “What a downer. Come on, the quicker we can get changed, the quicker we can get to the party.”

********

The party in the Slytherin common room was the last bright spot for Harry for a while. After that it was just revision in the library as exams drew nearer. Hermione, Tracey and Theo were all increasingly short-tempered when interrupted from study, and even Draco became snappish to Harry. He managed to get Hermione to agree to receive his mail-ordered birthday present for Draco. Harry spent longer than normal patting Hedwig as he attached the order form and payment to her leg, purely for the pleasure of talking to someone who didn't have their head buried in a book.

Just in case the stress of exams wasn't enough, Harry was also worried about what Voldemort and Quirrell might be planning next. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that they'd told Snape everything they knew, but it didn't help. No matter that Snape seemed to be taking them seriously about this, Harry still didn't fully believe he'd do anything to help. Years with the Dursleys had taught him self-reliance, and trusting an adult like this went against everything he'd known so far. It didn't help that his scar kept prickling with pain ever since the Forest. 

And then exams started and Harry was too tired to worry properly.

They had written exams in which the entire year sat together in one large classroom, and practical exams in their usual classes. They had to make a pineapple dance across Flitwick's desk, and turn a mouse into a snuff-box for McGonagall. They brewed a Forgetfulness potion for Snape and mapped the night sky for Sinistra.

Finally, the last exam was over. One hour of answering questions about ancient witches and wizards for Binns was one hour too many, in Harry's opinion. As soon as they were allowed to leave, Harry headed straight outside, along with most of the class. 

It was a beautiful day, and Harry ended up sitting by the lake with the other Slytherin first years. He was picking flowers for Daphne to use in the daisy chain she was making, trying to shake the feeling that he'd forgotten something, when Hermione and Neville joined them. 

“That was easier than I'd expected,” Hermione beamed. “There was no need for me to have-”

“Shut it, Granger,” Pansy said lazily, cracking open an eye to glare at Hermione from the ground. 

“We only just got Theo and Tracey to stop rehashing the exam, we don't need you encouraging them,” Blaise drawled from beside Pansy. 

Hermione huffed a little as she sat down. “Fine. Isn't it a lovely day? Harry, we should visit Hagrid at some point, now that we don't have revision.”

Harry nodded absently, then froze. Hagrid, yes, that's what had been bothering him.

“Let's go now,” he said, and stood up. He thrust a handful of flowers at Daphne and pulled a grumbling Draco off the ground. “Come on, Hermione!”

“Can't this wait? I was quite comfortable back there, you know,” Draco said.

“We need to see Hagrid.”

“Why?” Hermione panted as she caught up to them.

“Doesn't it strike either of you as odd that Hagrid just happened to run into someone who had a dragon egg in his pocket? Like Draco said at the time, who the hell carries a dragon egg around with them? And then hands it over to someone in a card game?”

“I was more concerned about the dragon he was intending to hatch in his house, rather than where he got it,” Draco said. 

When they arrived at Hagrid's cabin they found him sitting on the steps shelling peas. Fang came over to lick Harry and Hermione before sitting next to Draco.

“Finished yer exams, then? Got time for a drink?”

“Yes, please,” said Hermione.

“No, sorry, we don't. Hagrid, I wanted to ask you about when you got the dragon egg,” Harry said. 

“What abou' it?” Hagrid asked warily.

Harry paused as he tried to put his thoughts in order. “Well, you said he kept his hood up the whole time, which wasn't unusual. Was there anything that _was_ unusual about him?”

“What d'you mean?”

“Did he ask you a lot of questions? I mean, he gave you a dragon egg – did he ask if you'd had one before? Or knew how to care for one?”

“Well, I'd told him about workin' at Hogwarts, o' course. Mighta mentioned I'd always wanted a dragon. He asked if I'd be able to take care of it, so I told him about some of the other creatures I've looked after.”

“Other creatures?”

“Yeah, you know, the herd of Thestrals in the forest, Fluffy...”

“Did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“O' course he did! How many three-headed dogs do you see? In fact, I told him, after Fluffy, I reckon a dragon'd be easy. Though with Fluffy, all yeh gotta do to calm him down is play a bit o' music – sends him straight to sleep, that does.”

Harry looked at the others in trepidation. Draco was only half listening as he was busy rubbing Fang's stomach. But Hermione was looking back with a worried look on her face.

Hagrid stood up suddenly. “I should not have told yeh that.”

“No, it's alright, we won't tell anyone. Promise,” Harry said quickly.

“Aye, see that yeh don't. That's worth more than me job, that is.”

“We'll, er, we'll just get going then. Nice to see you.”

“What was that all about?” Draco asked once they were a good distance away.

Harry stopped and looked around them before replying. “Don't you see? The man in the pub – it was Quirrell. Hagrid's told him how to get past Fluffy.”

“But Snape said there were other obstacles protecting the Stone,” Draco objected. 

“Yeah, and how much do you wanna bet that Quirrell's figured out what they are? If the rest of them were all done by other teachers, they'd have no reason not to tell Quirrell, would they? No one else suspects him.”

“We need to tell Dumbledore,” Hermione said, and looked at them as if daring to disagree. 

“Do you know where his office is?” was all Harry asked. They looked at him blankly.

“Well, how hard can it be? We'll just ask the first teacher we find,” Draco said, and set off.

“And tell them what?” Hermione asked. 

“I'll say I wanted to ask if I could stay at Hogwarts over summer,” suggested Harry, ignoring the look of pity that flashed across Hermione’s face.

They entered the Entrance Hall, taking a second for their eyes to adjust to the shadows after the sunny grounds. 

“Professor McGonagall” Hermione cried.

McGonagall was carrying a large stack of books, and turned around to peer at them over the top. “Yes? What are the three of you doing inside on a day like this?”

“We'd like to see the Headmaster, please,” Hermione said.

“See the Headmaster? Why?” McGonagall asked suspiciously.

Draco elbowed Harry. “Well, I, er –”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “I hope this isn't about the you-know-what hidden upstairs.”

They looked at each other. “Er...”

She sighed. “Professor Snape has told me that the three of you somehow found out about it.”

“Well, did he tell you that Quirrell's trying to steal it?” Harry asked desperately.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. “No, he certainly did not! I don't know what your fascination with that man is, but it needs to stop immediately. As for Professor Dumbledore, he received an urgent owl from the Ministry, and flew off for London ten minutes ago.”

“He's gone? But he can't!” Draco blurted.

“I assure you, Mr Malfoy, the Headmaster is quite capable of such a feat, no matter how it may dismay you. Now, I don't want to hear another word. Go back outside, and if I catch one of you anywhere near that corridor, it'll be fifty points.”

They walked sullenly back outside.

“What the hell do we do now?” Draco finally asked.

Harry set his shoulders. “I'm going to get it first.”

“You're what?” Draco asked.

“I'm going after the Stone, and I'm going to get it before Quirrell does.”

“And what are you going to do if you get it?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “Take it to Dumbledore and suggest that if I can get it, it probably wasn't very well protected from Voldemort?”

Draco grinned. “Cool. When are we doing this?”

“We?”

“You think you're doing this by yourself? Please. I'm not missing out on all the fun,” Draco scoffed. Hermione nodded as well.

Harry sighed. “Fine. Fine. Okay, Hermione, I'll bring my Cloak to dinner, and smuggle you into Slytherin under it. That way we don't have to come get you from Gryffindor. We'll hang out in our dorm until the others go to sleep, then sneak out. But you'll have to remain under it all night, or the others will crack it,” he warned.

“No problem,” she said determinedly.


	11. In Which Our Trio Goes After Quirrell, and Harry Visits the Infirmary for the First Time

Under other circumstances it would've been a very pleasant evening. After dinner they smuggled Hermione into their dorm and huddled together on Harry's bed with the curtains drawn. Draco half heartedly suggested they play a game of chess to pass the time, but neither Harry nor Hermione was in the mood for it. Instead they spent their time whispering about their plans for the summer and gossiping.

Finally they heard the other boys make their way into the room and get settled in bed. Hermione peeked out under the Cloak and reported that all the bed lights were off. Silently, they climbed off Harry's bed and joined her under the Cloak. They were just about to set off when Harry stopped them. He darted out from under the Cloak and searched through his trunk as quietly as he could.

“Sorry, forgot this,” he held up the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas.

“Thank god, I didn't feel much like singing,” Draco whispered.

They had to go slowly when they got to the Entrance Hall. Filch was struggling to polish the suits of armour from atop a tall ladder as Mrs Norris paced around the base. Luckily the smell of the polish was strong enough that she couldn't smell them. They didn't run into anyone else until they got to the stairway to the third floor. Peeves was floating above the stairs as he loosened the carpet in order to trip people. 

He looked up suddenly. “Who's there? Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?”

“Student,” Draco said haughtily. Harry and Hermione looked at him angrily, but didn't say anything.

Peeves' eyes gleamed. “A student out of bed? Won't you be in trouble if I get a teacher? Or maybe Filchie, he'd enjoy punishing you.”

“I rather thought you might have more fun with him tonight, actually,” Draco said slowly.

“Fun with Filch?” Peeves floated a little closer.

“Yes. He's in the Entrance Hall, polishing the armour.”

Peeves floated closer still. “Oh, really?”

“He's at the top of a very tall ladder,” Draco said smoothly.

Peeves flipped upside down and stroked his chin. 

“And has an extremely large, extremely smelly bucket of polish,” Draco grinned.

Peeves flipped right side up quickly. “What's in it for you? I don't get many kiddies trying to make deals with old Peevesie.”

Draco paused. “Perhaps I might need a favour in the future.”

Peeves considered this. “Okey dokey. What's your name?”

“Dragon.”

Peeves blew a raspberry at them. “Ooh, a big scary dragon. Breathing fire and burning things, what fun. If Filch is still there, I'll owe you one.” He cackled and slid down the balustrade. 

“He's not going to give you a favour,” Harry said as soon as he'd gone.

Draco shrugged. “He might. And if he doesn't, well, at least we know he's gone off to torment Filch.”

“Sure thing, _Dragon_ ,” Harry sniggered.

“Like I'd give him my real name.”

“So you went with Dragon?” Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged again. “What do you think my name means? And it's not like I've got a nickname.”

“Sure you do. Git,” Harry grinned.

“Only you call me that, you prat.”

Hermione huffed impatiently. “Can we get a move on, please?”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, and they made their way up the staircase. 

And found the corridor door already open.

“Shit, so Quirrell's already gotten past Fluffy,” said Harry.

“Well, hopefully he had worse luck with some of the other protections,” Draco replied. 

They entered the corridor to find Fluffy awake and growling. A harp lay at his feet. 

“At least we know that Hagrid was right about the music,” Hermione whispered. “He must wake up as soon as you stop playing.”

“Here goes...”

Harry started to play the flute. It wasn't a recognisable tune, and he had a fleeting thought that maybe he should have practised. But as soon as he heard the owl-like flute, Fluffy started to fall asleep. Soon they were faced with a giant, slumbering dog. With his paw on the trapdoor.

“Don't stop playing,” Draco warned, then whipped the Cloak off them and stuffed it into his pocket. 

He and Hermione gently pushed the giant paw off the trapdoor and opened it. 

“What can you see?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing, it's too dark. I can't see any stairs.” Draco looked up with a grin. “Want to go first, Miss Gryffindor?”

When Hermione peered doubtfully down the hole, Harry gestured towards himself.

“You're going first? Alright, then, give Hermione the flute,” Draco said.

There was a tense few seconds as Harry stopped playing to hand it over. Fluffy snorted a bit, but settled down again when Hermione began to play. 

Harry stepped forward and looked down the hole. Like the others, all he could see was ominous darkness. “It can't be too bad, if Quirrell's managed it,” he told himself, then looked up. “See you in a second.”

He took a breath and jumped. He felt rather than saw the walls rushing past him as he fell. Just as he was beginning to think this was a very stupid thing to do, he landed on something soft. He felt around him; as far as he could tell, he'd landed on a plant.

“Thank fuck for that,” he muttered, then looked up to the top of the shaft. He could just make out Draco's pale face staring over the edge. “It's alright, I landed on some sort of plant!”

Draco dropped down next to him a few seconds later as Harry lit his wand. They heard the faint music stop, and then Hermione joined them. 

“Nice of them to put this plant here,” Draco said.

Hermione gave a shriek and rolled off the plant. “Nice? It's another trap!” She slapped a vine that had been trying to wind its way around her ankle.

Harry and Draco looked down in horror to find themselves almost entirely wrapped in more vines. They started to struggle, but that only made it worse.

“Hermione, help us!” Harry cried.

“Stop moving, I'm trying to think! This is Devil's Snare...” she replied.

“Oh, I'm so glad I know its name, pleased to make its acquaintance,” Draco said sarcastically.

“I'm trying to remember how to kill it! It likes damp, dark places...”

“So light a bloody fire!” Harry shouted.

“But there's no wood!” Hermione cried.

“Use your fucking wand, Granger!” Draco shouted.

“Oh, right, of course!”

A few seconds later Harry and Draco felt their restraints loosen as the plant tried to get away from the blue flames Hermione had conjured. They quickly scrambled off the plant and joined Hermione by the wall of the passageway they were in. 

“Thanks. Good thing you pay attention in Herbology,” Harry told her, thinking of how he and Draco hadn't heard a word Sprout said about Devil's Snares.

“Too bad we didn't land on a teacher, you would've lit a fire a lot sooner,” Draco said as he brushed down his robes.

“That was one time, Malfoy! You're never going to let me forget that, are you?”

Draco smirked. “Of course not.”

Harry set off down the passage. “Come on guys.”

They made their way in silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the quiet drip of water running down the walls. Soon though, they could hear a quiet clinking noise.

“What is it?” Draco asked. 

“Dunno. There's more light up there, though,” replied Harry. “I think I can see something moving.”

They passageway opened suddenly into a large, well-lit chamber. Beneath its high ceiling was a mass of brightly coloured birds. 

“That's it? Birds? Who the hell's going to be afraid of that?” Draco asked contemptuously.

Harry looked above him. “I don't think they're birds...”

The others followed his gaze.

“Do they look like keys to anyone else?” Hermione asked after a few seconds.

“Yeah...” Harry looked around the chamber. There was a large door on the other side and he ran towards it. He tried the handle, even using _Alohomora_ , but it wouldn't open. He gave up and spun back around. “How do we catch them?”

Draco pointed to a group of broomsticks next to him. “We fly. But which one is it?”

Harry looked closer at the lock on the door. “It'll be old-fashioned and heavy. Maybe silver, if it matches the handle.”

They climbed onto the brooms and took off, with Hermione rising slower than the boys, clearly uncomfortable on a broom. Harry made a swipe at a silver key near him, but it darted away from him, along with all the other keys near it. 

“Guys, stop moving for a second.”

As the three of them hovered in mid-air, Harry looked out at the keys. “There, that one with the blue wings looks like it's been caught already.”

“What are you waiting for, catch it!” Draco told him.

Harry shook his head. “They're too fast, like a Snitch on steroids.”

“On what?”

“Never mind. Hermione, you stay low, and don't let it duck out of reach. Draco, stay on the other side of it. I'll come towards you, be prepared to catch it if I miss it.”

Harry leant down along his broom and sped towards the key. It started to head away from him, but hesitated when it came too close to Draco. That pause was enough for Harry, and he caught the key a foot in front of Draco, who jerked backwards. 

“You fly like a maniac.”

Harry grinned as he headed for the ground. “I don't hear you complaining when I'm playing Quidditch.”

“That's because then it's Hufflepuffs you're endangering, and not my face.”

Harry snorted and ran back to the door with the key held firmly in his hand. It struggled as he put it in the lock, and as soon as he'd turned it, it took off again. 

“Ready?” he asked the others. When they nodded, he pulled the door open. 

The next chamber was dark until Harry took a step forward. Torches on the walls flared into life, and lit up a giant chessboard. The pieces were huge, taller than Draco, and carved of stone. Eerily, none of them had faces. 

“Now what?” Harry asked.

“We play, obviously. Although...” Draco hesitated, then walked towards the black king in front of them. He reached out a shaky hand and touched the stone. It sprung to life, and the crowned head swivelled down to look at Draco. 

“Do we need to take your place to get across?”

The stone king nodded once, then turned back to face the white pieces. Draco gazed at the board for a minute, then went back to the others. 

“Hermione, are you any good at chess?”

“Not really. I can't stand wizard's chess.”

Draco straightened up to his full height. “Alright then, I'll direct us. Now... Harry, you replace that rook there, and Hermione, the knight next it.”

Hermione gave a happy little wiggle and trotted off to the knight, who obligingly moved off the board. Harry looked at Draco. “What about you?”

Draco smirked. “I believe I'll be a king.”

“Of course,” Harry rolled his eyes as he replaced the rook.

Draco watched in silence as a white pawn came forward, then calmly started directing the other black pieces. His composure was shaken when the first black pawn fell. A white knight ran it through with his sword before throwing it to the side of the board. 

“Holy shit!” Harry and Hermione looked at each other in shock. 

Draco looked at impaled pawn with wide eyes, then shook himself slightly. “Doesn't matter. That was expendable. You two aren't.”

The board slowly emptied as both sides took out more opponents. There was a pile of broken pieces on either side of the board, but Harry was heartened to see that the white one was slightly higher. The white queen threw another pawn off the board, then slowly swivelled on the spot until she was facing Harry. Like Draco, he hadn't yet moved in the game. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm.”

“Draco! The white queen's eyeing me off here,” Harry said nervously.

“She doesn't have eyes,” Draco responded vaguely. 

“Not really my point.”

“Shh. Hermione, take that pawn there. The one that hasn't moved.”

Hermione looked at him disbelief. “You mean the one right in the middle of all of those other pieces?”

“Yes.”

“But...”

Draco looked at her. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then take the pawn.”

Hermione walked her L-shape carefully, and came to a stop in front of the last pawn. She bit her lip, then set her face, gave the pawn a shove and walked onto its square. It toppled over and dragged itself off the board. 

“Ha! Take that!” Hermione crowed. 

“Check,” Draco said smugly.

Harry took his eyes off the white queen in time to see the king sliding away from Hermione.

“Move one square closer to me, Harry,” Draco said. 

Harry did so, frowning in confusion as he saw Draco step towards him at the same time. Then Draco grabbed him and switched their positions. 

“What the hell?”

“Castling. Oh, and also, checkmate.” Draco grinned at him.

On the other side of the board, the white king took off his crown and threw it on the floor. All the remaining white pieces slid sideways to clear a path to the next passageway.

“That was brilliant,” Harry breathed as they walked cautiously through the parted chess pieces.

“Your trust in me was overwhelming,” Draco commented drily. He bent down and picked up the white king's discarded crown. The others stared at him. “I can't take a trophy?”

They reached another door. “Ready?” Harry asked again. 

When he opened this door, they were immediately hit with a strong stench. Holding their sleeves over their noses, they saw a huge troll, bigger than the one at Halloween, passed out on the floor. It had a large bloody lump on its head. 

“Ten points to Quirrell for knocking that thing out,” Draco muttered as they edged past it. 

He opened the next door and they breathed the fresh air in gratefully as they looked around. On a table before them were seven bottles of varying size and shape. 

“Is this all?” Draco asked as they stepped forward.

Flames appeared in both doorways; purple behind them, black in front of them. 

Harry glared at Draco. “Good job jinxing it!”

Draco looked at him in confusion. “I didn't use a jinx.”

“Muggle saying,” Hermione muttered as she strode over to the table. She picked up a piece of parchment from the table and read it quickly. Harry was surprised when she let out a little squeak of excitement. He moved around to read it over her shoulder, and Draco looked over her other one. 

When he was down he looked up. “Why are you so excited by this?”

“Because it's logic, Harry. Logic, not magic. A puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't any logic at all. They'd be stuck in here for ever.” She slapped Draco's hand as he made to take the parchment. “You got the chess, Malfoy. This one's mine.”

He shrugged and stood back with Harry. “Go ahead.”

As Hermione read the puzzle again, Harry picked up Draco's crown out of his hands. It was white stone, like the chessmen had been, and had the mascots of the Hogwarts houses carved into it. 

“This is pretty cool,” Harry said as he handed it back.

Draco grinned and slid the crown around his arm. “I know. I think I'm going to –”

Hermione clapped her hands. “Got it! The smallest bottle will get us through to the Stone.”

They all looked at the little bottle.

“That's only enough for one of us,” Draco said flatly.

“Which one gets us back out of here?” Harry asked.

Hermione pointed at a larger bottle at the end of the line. 

“Right. You two take that, and get out of here. I'll go on alone,” Harry stared at them determinedly.

“Surely we can split this,” Draco held the little bottle up to the light and eyed it doubtfully.

Harry grabbed it out of his hand. “No. Look, you two can get back. Use the brooms to fly out of here – you still have the flute, don't you, Hermione? You can go to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore. Draco, you go and fetch Snape. I'll try to stall Quirrell.”

“What about you?” Draco asked.

“What if – what if You-Know-Who's with him?” Hermione added.

Harry smiled grimly. “He's already tried to kill me and failed once. Maybe I'll get lucky again.”

Hermione suddenly threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. He was about to protest when the pair of them were rocked by Draco throwing his arms around both of them. Harry stood there for a few seconds before he gently pushed them off him. 

“Hermione, you're sure about these potions?”

She nodded and took a long drink from her bottle. “Ugh!”

“It's not poison, is it?” Draco asked. 

“No, but it's like drinking ice.”

“Go quickly, before it wears off,” Harry said. Hermione handed the bottle to Draco and ran through the purple flames without catching fire herself. Both boys breathed a sigh of relief. 

Draco looked at the bottle, then up at Harry. “I'll be back. I'll – I'll come back for you.”

Harry tried for a confident smile. “I know. I'll see you soon. I can't miss your birthday, can I?”

“Right.” Draco nodded, drank his potion and walked quickly through the flames. 

Harry watched him go before turning back to the black flames. “Let's do it.”

He downed the small bottle in one swallow and shivered. It felt like ice had been poured through his veins. He stepped quickly through the black flames without even feeling them, and found himself in the last chamber. 

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Maybe to find Quirrell trying to hack the Philosopher's Stone out of a slab of rock, like King Arthur and Excalibur. Or a fearsome beast like a dragon. He certainly hadn't been expecting to see Quirrell gazing into the Mirror of Erised.

“So you haven't got it yet, then,” Harry said.

Quirrell narrowed his eyes at him. “No, I haven't. I must say, I was wondering if I'd be seeing you here.”

“Can't say the same, myself. You're not exactly good at the whole sneaking around thing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Harry shrugged. “We've been onto you for months. Why do you think we broke into your office?”

“McGonagall mentioned a dare,” Quirrell said uncertainly. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, we didn't tell her the truth. We told Snape, though. Draco's on his way to get him now, actually. Should be back soon.”

Quirrell looked rattled for a moment. “No matter. He's no match for my master.”

“Yeah, about that. Where is Voldemort? Shouldn't he be here? Because I'm pretty sure Snape could take you.”

“You dare to use his name?” 

Before Harry could reply, Quirrell snapped his fingers, and thick ropes bound Harry head to foot. 

“Now keep quiet, Potter, while I examine this interesting mirror. This is the key... I see the Stone, I'm offering it to my master... But how do I get it?”

I need to distract him, Harry thought, at least until Snape or Dumbledore arrives. Need to keep his attention off the Mirror.

“Which name? Do you mean _Voldemort_?” Harry asked in the most obnoxious voice he could manage while tied up.

Quirrell flinched but kept muttering to himself as he inspected the mirror.

“You've been looking at that for a long time, you know. It doesn't seem to be going so well,” Harry tried again.

“ _Silencio_.” Quirrell flicked his wand in Harry's direction, and he found he couldn't make noise any more.

Giving a silent growl of annoyance, Harry started to edge around Quirrell. Maybe if he could see the Mirror, he could see where the Stone was hidden. Harry thought that was a good plan, but the tightness of the ropes around his legs made it slow going. Harry had just managed to get to a position from which he could see the top of his head reflected over Quirrell's shoulder when he was interrupted by Quirrell's frustrated cry.

“How is this supposed to work? Help me, Master!”

Harry stared at him in horror as a cold voice came from Quirrell. 

“Use the boy... Use the boy...”

Quirrell spun around. “You, come here!” 

Another wave of Quirrell's wand, and the ropes fell off Harry as he got his voice back. He slowly made his way over to Quirrell. 

“Look in the Mirror and tell me what you see.”

Harry suppressed a shudder of revulsion when he felt Quirrell walk behind him. He tried to ignore it and looked at his reflection. His reflection looked just as scared as he felt, but after a few seconds it smirked at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a garnet coloured stone, before winking and putting it back in its pocket. Harry had to stifle a gasp then, as he felt something heavy drop into his own pocket. He couldn't understand how, but he's somehow got the real Stone. 

“Well? What do you see?”

“I – I'm getting off the Hogwarts Express... But I'm leaving with Draco. I'm staying with him for the summer, not the Dursleys.”

“Fuck. Get out of the way, boy.”

Harry gratefully moved out of the way, trying to ignore the Stone bumping against his leg. Hopefully Quirrell couldn't see the bulge underneath his school robes. 

“He lies... He lies...” It was that voice again.

“Potter, get back here and tell the truth! What can you see?” Quirrell bellowed. 

“Let me speak to him... Face to face...”

“Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have strength enough... For this...”

Harry watched the argument in terrified fascination. He had a very bad feeling about this. That feeling only got stronger as he watched Quirrell start to unwind his turban. Harry desperately hoped he was wrong about what was coming.

And then Quirrell turned around, and Harry's hope died. Instead of having hair, or even garlic, the back of Quirrell's head had a second face. It was pale as bone, and vaguely snake-like, with slitted nostrils instead of a proper nose. Its red eyes were glaring malevolently at Harry. His scar flared into pain.

“Harry Potter... See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour... I have form only when I can share another's body... But there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... And once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... Why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

Harry stumbled back a step. He might be able to get out of here, if he jumped through the flames in the doorway.

“Don't be a fool... Better save your own life and join me... Or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy...”

“No they didn't!” Harry interrupted angrily.

Voldemort smiled unpleasantly. “No, they didn't... Your father fought bravely... Your mother needn't have died... She wouldn't stop protecting you... Don't let her death be in vain... Give me the Stone...”

“Never!”

Harry made to run for the door, but Voldemort was screaming at Quirrell, and the next second Harry's scar burst into pain when his wrist was seized by Quirrell. It felt like his head would split open from the pain, when all of a sudden it faded away. He looked up in confusion to see Quirrell cradling his fingers, which were erupting in blisters as they stared at them. 

“Seize him!” Voldemort screamed. 

Quirrell lurched towards Harry and grabbed him around the neck. Harry's scar nearly blinded him with pain again, but he forced himself to look down at Quirrell's hand. They were reddening where they were in contact with Harry's skin. 

This hurts him more than it does me, Harry thought.

Harry reached up with both hands, aiming for Quirrell's face. He got one hand over Quirrell's mouth, and the other wrapped around his temple, with his thumb over one eye. He was dimly aware of Quirrell's screaming in pain as his skin burnt and blistered. He felt the skin beneath his thumb collapse, and realised in disgust that Quirrell's eye had burst. He took the advantage and pushed his thumb in further. Voldemort was shouting at Quirrell to kill Harry, but he couldn't see anything – his vision was going dark as the pain in his head built. The last thing he knew was someone calling his name, and then everything went dark.

********

Harry came to with something gold glinting above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. Frustrated, he closed his eyes again. When he opened them again, he was staring into the smiling face of Dumbledore.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked in confusion before he remembered. “Sir, Quirrell's got the Stone! You need to stop him!”

“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times. Quirrell does not have the Stone.”

Harry frowned at Dumbledore's tone. “What happened to it, then?”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair. “It has been destroyed.”

Harry pushed himself up awkwardly, noticing that he seemed to be in the infirmary. “But what about the Flamels? They'll die now, won't they?”

Dumbledore beamed at him. “Oh, you know about Nicolas and Perenelle? Severus mentioned that you knew more than you ought, but I must confess I didn't fully believe him. They have a small stockpile of Elixir, enough to last a few months. They will be setting their affairs in order, and then they will pass away.”

“Oh.” Harry didn't know what to say to that, so took the opportunity to look around him. His bed was closed off on the sides by white curtains. On a table next to him there was a large pile of lollies and cards. He smiled when saw a long daisy chain spilling off the table.

Dumbledore followed his gaze. “Well wishes from your friends. What happened between you and Voldemort is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows.”

Harry gently pulled the daisy chain into his lap. “How long have I been in here?”

“Three days. Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy will be most relieved to see you awake.”

Harry nodded. “What happened to Quirrell? And Voldemort?”

“Ah. I arrived in time to pull Quirrell off you, although you were doing remarkably well on your own. He was weakened from your touch, you see. Voldemort abandoned him to die shortly after I arrived. Voldemort is once again non-corporeal. Not being fully alive, he cannot die. He has disappeared, but he will be back again.”

“Why couldn't Quirrell touch me? I mean, it hurt me too, but I didn't get burnt like he did.”

“Voldemort is a powerful wizard, but there are some areas of magic of which he knows nothing. I am talking of love, Harry. Your mother died protecting you, and her love for you has left a mark on you. No, not like your scar. This resides in you, in your blood, in your skin. You are marked by a pure love. As such, Voldemort, and someone sharing his soul with him like Quirrell, cannot touch you. It is agony for such a person to touch someone marked by something so good and pure.”

Harry filed this away and moved on to his next question. “My Invisibility Cloak... It used to belong to my dad. Do you know who sent it to me?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I did. I had borrowed it from your father shortly before he died, and I thought you might like it.”

Something about Dumbledore's answer niggled at him, but Harry couldn't think what it meant. “One more thing... How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?”

“Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to _find_ the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?”

He smiled and popped the caramel-coloured bean into his mouth, then choked. “Alas! Earwax!”

Harry watched the Headmaster walk out of the room and tried not to laugh. He thought the earwax bean was Dumbledore's punishment for sounding so pleased with his own scheming. 

Harry's reverie was broken the sound of an argument by the door. 

“But he's awake! He'll want to see us!”

“Please!”

Harry smiled at the sound of his friends.

“Absolutely not. That boy needs rest,” Madam Pomfrey replied. Harry rolled his eyes. He liked Pomfrey, but she could be strict when she wanted to. He was about to call out to her when another voice spoke up.

“I'll make sure they do not over-exert him, Poppy.”

He heard Pomfrey sigh, and then Draco and Hermione bounded around the curtain, followed by Snape.

“Harry! We've been so worried about you!” Hermione cried as she and Draco took seats next to the bed.

“They certainly were. I caught Mr Malfoy here trying to sneak in under your Cloak. Twice,” Snape said. He looked almost proud as he said it.

Harry frowned at Snape as something clicked in his mind. “Sir, can I ask you a question? The night you caught me at the Mirror of Erised, you used a charm to make yourself invisible. Is there any reason why someone who could do that would need my Cloak?”

Snape cocked his head in thought. “If the person in question was able to cast a Disillusionment Charm, no. Although the Cloak is, of course, able to cover more than one person at once.”

Draco butted in. “Forget about your Cloak, Harry. The entire school's been talking about it – what happened after we left you?”

Harry started to explain, but found their stares too intimidating, so told his tale as he twisted the daisy chain in his lap. When Harry finally finished, Snape's long fingers closed over his own and stilled his fidgeting. He watched in silence as Snape pointed his wand at the chain. 

“Preservation Charm. It won't wilt now,” he said when Harry looked at him inquiringly.

“Thank you, sir. So what happened to you two after you left?” Harry asked.

“Well, we got out easily enough. I took off for the owlery, but ran into the Headmaster. He already knew – he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and took off. So then I went after Draco.”

“I found Professor Snape in the dungeons, and we came back to the corridor, running into Hermione on the way. And then –”

“And then I had to forcibly restrain Mr Malfoy from going after you,” Snape grumbled. 

“I promised I would,” Draco glowered at Snape.

“Enough, Mr Malfoy. I told you I would alert you and Miss Granger when Mr Potter awakened if you would drop the subject.”

As Draco and Snape glared at each other, Hermione leant forward. “So Harry, will you be better in time for the End of Term Feast tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “I'll have to ask Pomfrey, I guess.”

Draco smiled. “She has to let you go. Ravenclaw may have won the House Cup, but we won the Quidditch Cup.”

Hermione groaned. “Don't remind me.”

Draco's smile turned into a grin. “They were absolutely slaughtered by Ravenclaw,” he told Harry over the sound of Hermione’s grumbling. 

“I believe it was their worst defeat in three hundred years,” Snape said helpfully, smirking.

********

After nearly fourteen hours of sleep, Harry felt mostly back to normal the next day.

“Which means I can go to the feast, can't I?” 

Pomfrey pursed her lips as she finished straightening his pile of lollies. “Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go. And you have another visitor.”

“Excellent. Who is it?”

Hagrid came around the curtain, looking far too big for the room. He sat down and promptly burst into tears.

“It's – all – my – ruddy – fault! I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! And after you lot told me he was up to no good! And all over a dragon egg! I'll never drink again, I'll – ”

“Hagrid, stop! He would've found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about!”

“Yeh could've died! And don't say that name!”

“Voldemort! Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!” Harry shouted, shocking Hagrid into silence. “I've met him – twice, now – and I'm calling him by his name. No harm ever came from saying a name. And I'm fine now, I'm going to the feast in a minute.”

Hagrid wiped his nose and smiled weakly. “That reminds me, I've got yeh a present. Dumbledore gave me the day off to get it ready, I've got it here somewhere...”

Harry watched in trepidation as Hagrid emptied an assortment of keys, dog biscuits and coins onto the foot of Harry's bed. Finally, he withdrew a leather-bound book.

“Here. Sent owls ter all yer parents' old school friends askin' for photos. Knew yeh didn't have any, see. Anyway, I hope you like it.”

Harry opened the album carefully. On every page his parents' smiling faces looked out at him, sometimes from a group of friends, sometimes just the two of them, or by themselves. One even showed them with an infant Harry. He looked up, unable to speak, and got out of bed to give Hagrid a fierce hug.

********

That night, Harry walked down to the feast by himself. He'd had to demonstrate to Pomfrey that he was capable of getting himself out of bed and walking around before she'd agreed he could go. He hadn't minded at the time, as he found it nice to be fussed over by an adult for once. But he had a flash of annoyance when he arrived in the Great Hall to find it already full. Blue and bronze hangings decorated the hall in celebration of Ravenclaw's winning the House Cup, and a large banner showing the Ravenclaw eagle graced the wall behind the staff table.

When Harry walked in the entire hall fell silent for a second, before everyone started talking very loudly. Harry tried to ignore the people standing up, reminded forcefully of his Sorting, as he walked quickly over to the Slytherin table. He slid in to the seat between Draco and Daphne and looked around. 

“Hi guys. Did I miss anything?”

Draco shook his head as the other first years all started telling Harry how glad they were to see him. Daphne even gave him a hug.

“Did you get my daisy chain?” she asked as she pulled away, blushing slightly.

Harry smiled. “I thought it was yours! Yeah, it was great. Snape even put a charm on it so it won't wilt.”

Daphne opened her mouth to reply when Dumbledore strode into the hall.

“Another year gone! And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in third, Slytherin with three hundred and seventy-four; in second, Gryffindor, with four hundred and fourteen; and first, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six.”

The Ravenclaw table erupted into cheering. 

“Yes, yes, well done, Ravenclaw. However, recent events must be taken into account.”

Silence descended on the Ravenclaw table at Dumbledore's words. 

“Ahem. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First, to Mr Draco Malfoy, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Slytherin house fifty points.”

Draco's cheeks went slightly pink as Harry and Pansy hugged him, but he was smiling. Harry looked across the hall to see Hermione and Neville joining in the applause, and he grinned as he saw Ron looking sourly at Draco. 

Dumbledore waited until there was silence once again. “Second – to Miss Hermione Granger... For the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”

Harry and Draco jumped to their feet as they joined in the Gryffindors' cheering. Harry looked at the staff table and nudged Draco; Snape was clapping almost hard as McGonagall beside him. Hermione buried her face in her hands, and as he sat down again, Harry suspected she may have burst into tears. 

“Third – to Mr Harry Potter... For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Slytherin house sixty points.”

Slytherin table burst into applause again as people quickly did the maths in their heads. Harry tried to slink down in his seat, but Draco pulled him to his feet along with the rest of the table.

Dumbledore raised his voice over the din. “Which means we need a little change of decoration.” 

He clapped his hands once, and the Ravenclaw decorations shivered and changed colours. Blue and bronze were replaced with green and silver, and the eagle banner was replaced by a serpent. Snape and McGonagall were shaking hands. As he dropped McGonagall's hand, Snape looked out over the crowd to Harry and raised his glass.

********

Harry was surprised when they received their exam results one day at breakfast. He'd nearly forgotten all about them. He'd done extremely well in Potions, and was amused to see that he'd done well in DADA as well. The rest of his marks weren't as good, but he was still pleased.

Before he knew it, their trunks were packed, their dorm emptied, and they were on their way to the Hogwarts Express. Harry found a compartment with Draco, Hermione, Pansy, Daphne and Neville. Harry was watching with amusement as Draco tried to introduce his owl, Thoth, to Hedwig, when Hermione elbowed him in the side. She was holding out a parcel wrapped in plain green paper.

“Oh, thanks! I'd forgotten about that,” Harry took the package off her. “Happy birthday, Draco. Sorry it's so late.”

Draco perked up at the sight of the present. “I'll forgive you this once, since you were unconscious.” 

He opened the packaging eagerly, and grinned at Harry when he saw the Broomstick Servicing Kit.

“Thanks.”

“It's for next year. You'll be able to have your broom at school, and I thought you could try out for the Quidditch team,” Harry explained.

“I was thinking of trying out for Chaser,” Draco mused. 

Hermione quickly changed the subject; Gryffindor's heavy defeat by Ravenclaw was still a sore topic for both her and Neville. 

All too soon, they were changing out of their school robes, and then they arrived at King's Cross Station. It took a long time for them to get off platform 9 ¾. A security guard was only letting them out in small groups so as not to alarm the Muggles on the other side of the barrier.

“You'll all write, won't you?” Harry asked as they waited in line.

As everyone assured him they would, Draco put his arm around Harry's shoulders. “And you won't even be with your relatives for that long. Mother and I will come and pick you up, don't worry.”

Harry grinned at him. “I won't. Besides, they don't know I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school. I'm going have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer.”

When they stepped through the barrier Harry hugged Draco and watched him walk off to a blonde couple who could only be his parents. Not even Uncle Vernon's glower was enough to wipe the smile from his face.


End file.
